


Distance

by ArcadiaMahler



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Police, Alternative Universe - 1970's, Anal Sex, Attempted Murder, Canonical Character Death, Double Penetration, Dubious Consent, Emotional Sex, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Established Relationship, F/M, Graphic Description of Corpses, Hostage Situations, Implied Relationships, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mental Instability, Murder Mystery, Past Relationship(s), Psychological Drama, Romance, Sexual Content, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-18
Updated: 2014-04-19
Packaged: 2018-01-19 23:51:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 56,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1488787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArcadiaMahler/pseuds/ArcadiaMahler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erwin Smith has been a cop on the force for fifteen years when it hits him. He's old. His fortieth birthday only adds more stress. Bertolt Hoover has been Erwin's boyfriend for a few months, and wishes to cheer up his boyfriend, and make plans for the future. Yet when a strange series of murders start up the two start learn more about their pasts than they ever saw coming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Special Day

"Going out?"

Bertolt raised his head as he heard the others deep voice, turning his gaze from his coats buttons. He could see from the kitchen, towards the bedroom door where Erwin had sat upright, feet set on the floor, but still in bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Bertolt cursed himself silently, wishing he was a bit quieter, his feet were never very graceful walking around the squeaky wooden floors.

"I'm sorry. Did I wake you? I was going to go grab some groceries." Bertolt replied holding up a list of all the things they needed scribbled down on a yellow notepad. "It's Saturday. You should relax. You have a day off."

Erwin looked bewildered for a moment before he nodded his head.

"I guess that's right..."

Bertolt chuckled at the response, Erwin was too tired to remember he had a day off in the first place. He could see Erwin shifting around in bed, but not too ready to leave just yet.

"I'll be right back. Go back to sleep." Bertolt cooed to Erwin, keeping his voice soft. Erwin nodded his head again, and ran his hand over his face, massaging his temples a bit.

"Batteries." He mumbled.

"Hmm?" Bertolt looked to him, tilting his head.

"We need batteries." Erwin mumbled, and Bertolt could see him lay back on his side, bringing his legs up. Bertolt looked to his list and produced a pen from his pocket, writing down batteries. He knew he'd forget something.

"Thank you. Now sleep okay?" Bertolt repeated, putting the pen away. Erwin mumbled something, but he was too tired, and as much as Bertolt wanted to creep in and fold the blanket over him and pet his hair until he was really asleep, he knew he'd only wake him up more. Instead he went to the door, tying his shoes up and exited. He shut the door slowly to make sure he didn't make too much noise. Despite the silence he tried to keep, Erwin was able to say once last thing.

"Stay safe.."

Bertolt smiled a bit, turning his head inside.

"I will be." he responded. It was a silly little quirk, but Erwin couldn't let him leave without reminding him to be safe. Perhaps that's what happened to people who worked such a job as Erwin. Bertolt didn't think much of it, but he couldn't help himself smiling.

October winds rushed to greet Bertolt as he stepped from the warmth of the apartment complex and into the freezing outside world. The winds threatened snow was coming, but the sky was still streaks of white clouds, and a brilliant cold blue. Bertolt tried to leave as early as possible so he could leave Erwin to rest. He was still fairly impressed by how quiet he was about doing his morning rituals and putting on clothing. It was hard to be quiet in such a creaky rundown apartment as their own.

Luckily Erwin had only awoken by his own devices and Bertolt had a feeling he had drifted back to sleep. He had not remembered that today was a special day, at least to Bertolt it was. The older man would be turning forty years old. Though Bertolt could tell the man was particularly happy with the news, he wanted anything to make it feel a bit more special. Erwin was not against birthdays, he found no reason for them to be celebrated. Bertolt knew the man took age as more of a poetic matter, though Erwin was not a poetic man. Their age difference had people asking more questions than Bertolt ever hoped to have to answer. Erwin took it in stride, he honoured age too much to opinionate himself on such a matter.

Bertolt held the plastic bag under his arm, a carton of milk, eggs, orange juice, bread, and a packet of batteries. He found himself idling in between the stores he needed to go to. Picking up the cake he had gotten, as well as the presents that had been wrapped by the stores. Bertolt lingered at the cake shop, staring at all the decorations and different festive treats. The baker was a sweetheart and Bertolt found himself shamefully buying treats from her out of pity, against his wallet and body's better instinct.

"Tell Erwin I said happy birthday." she passed the cake over, flashing a smile to Bertolt.

"Thank you Krista. I'll make sure to tell him." Bertolt smiled and turned before stopping as soon as he opened the door. He stepped back for a moment, and set the cake down on the table. His eyebrows knitted, and he turned his head for a moment, sticking his head out the door for a moment before pulling back in.

"Is something wrong?" Krista asked, watching Bertolt with curious eyes.

"Something bad is about to happen..." Bertolt mumbled.

"What?" Krista looked to him, but she didn't look very surprised as she was curious. "Is it the jewellery store again?" It wouldn't be the first time Bertolt had predicted someone would rob the jewellery store that was just a few stores away from the bake shop. Bertolt had a knack for judging the atmosphere before anyone else. Bertolt slid down into one of the chairs and casually looked outside.

"There's a black car parked in front of the jewellery store. It's license number is fake. The driver isn't getting out of the car, and he looks nervous..." Bertolt began to list off the problems he saw with the pictures in his daily life. "They're wearing sunglasses, but it's not very bright out, and the car is on."

"Getaway vehicle?" Krista did not understand how one man could debunk so much, but she could understand enough to play along.

"Yeah..." Bertolt mumbled and sighed softly. "They're probably using guns and masks..." Bertolt began to explain. "The man driving the car keeps on looking into the store and his left hand isn't leaving the wheel. His right hand isn't in sight, I think he's got a gun in the other hand."

"You think it's a violent robbery?" Krista continued, as she started to retie her hair in a ponytail.

"They look unprofessional. So it might be." he responded, and started to browse at the sweets. "Could I get a chocolate croissant?" He huffed, feeling a little remorseful as he pulled out his wallet. Krista smiled as she pulled out the pastry, starting to place it in a paper bag. Her body suddenly jerked at the sound of gunfire. Bertolt whipped his head around. A very lively noise of shouting and gunfire emerged followed by the sounds of screeching tires and the scent of burned rubber hit his nose. Krista still cringed and looked in shock at the sudden commotion. Bertolt had expected too much in order to really still be afraid of it all. He stepped outside to see a man collapsed on the ground, bullets gleaming in his broken flesh and blood spilled all over the pavement. A crowd gathered, some screaming and pointing, others calling the cops, others just staring in awe as the man gasped in pain.

Bertolt didn't exit the bakery. He kept one foot in and stared onward at the body that had collapsed. It trembled and shuddered, hugging himself and moaning in pain of being shot. One of the bystanders actually reached down, touching the man and attempting to help him. As they flipped him over Bertolt could see where he was shot, and stepped back inside, immediately assuming it was done.

"What happened?" Krista asked, her voice was just a bit shaky, Bertolt stayed numb through the whole experience.

"Amateur robbery and murder." Bertolt replied calmly. "Or manslaughter I guess. That guy didn't look like he was trying to kill him on purpose. Still, it doesn't matter if it's the fastest ambulance in the world, that security guard is dead. Too many shots, and all of them bad places."

"Really?" Krista extended a new croissant and trashed the one she had dumped on the floor on accident. "Are you sure?"

"It'd be a miracle if he survived." Bertolt explained, nodding his head. "One to the liver, two to the stomach, another to the chest. The gunman was nervous. They just start spraying bullets when they get threatened. But this was set up a bit too well, they were carrying duffle bags, I have a feeling more are inside. You don't mind if I wait about... two minutes?" Bertolt reached out for the croissant and handed over some money. Bertolt sat back down, staring out the window. He looked down at his wristwatch, checking the time. People raced back and forth pathetically, and no one tried to help the man bleeding out on the ground, covering the pavement with thick red liquid. Bertolt shuddered a bit, only a little remorse reached him. He wished he could put the man out of his misery, but the idea of him walking up and putting a bullet in a dying man's head didn't sit well with him. Eventually he could see the collapse of the large security man, finally seizing up on the cold cement. Bertolt leaned over to rip the croissant apart with his teeth, allowing the chocolate to melt before swallowing.

More gunshots. Krista flinched, instinctively hugging the countertops. Bertolt sighed, pulling the cake close. He didn't like being right, but he usually was. Two other men wearing masks and holding heavy duffle bags sped off on motorcycles, the crowd flinched away at once like a heartbeat, almost in unison. The crowd was too afraid, and did not wish to end up like the poor security guard had. The two drove away, and Bertolt watched them for a moment, before pulling out his notepad and writing down a few things. There was an awkward time of silence where the crowd was speechless, and nothing but motorcycle revving filled the air.

"They were very prepared." Bertolt had a feeling he was talking to himself, Krista was still unused to these things. "They had three getaway vehicles, one of them was stolen, the other had a fake licences plate. I think one of the robbers got lazy. They didn't put the fake license plate on, so I got their license plate number. Not that it'll be very helpful... unless the person they stole it from knows who stole it. They took about ninety seconds... they must have almost two million dollars all together if they were quick about it. Grabbing jewellery is pretty easy if the glass isn't bulletproof. So two million dollars at the most... if they're lucky..."

"You can tell all that Bertolt?" Krista leaned in, raising her brow, she seemed less confused and scared when Bertolt ran through debunking what had happened. "How did you know?"

Bertolt shoved his notepad away, and picked up the cake and groceries he had bought. He wasn't fully sure how to respond, but he thought about it for a moment. He just shrugged, and stepped back outside, where the sounds of sirens were echoing in the distance.

"I didn't become a detective for nothing." he added, and left before any more words could be exchanged.

* * *

  
Bertolt had been working as a detective for only a few months. He had nowhere near as much training as anyone else in his workplace. However, no one had nearly as much insight as him. His boss was not exactly conventional, and on their meeting she requested to hire him full time, even without a bachelor, or being twenty-one years old. Bertolt thought he was being deceived, but everything checked out, and he abandoned college to work for his boss, Annie Leonhart. Money screamed to him more than a college degree, and an associates was good enough for him. It had also been a few months after dating Erwin that he had been offered the job, and after living with the man for so long, he wanted to be able to pay him back a bit.

Erwin was completely against it, and Bertolt could reason that Erwin didn't want to see him in trouble. He understood the concern, and he was worried about his work as well. Bertolt couldn't help being excited about it, he liked the rush of danger that came with the general knowledge of criminals. Studying their mannerisms and mentality was so fascinating, and at the same time, he was disgusted by it. People were such horrible things, and he didn't want to be told twice. Even the events he had witnessed that morning did not thrill him too much, now that he had gotten used to evaluating situations, he knew it would only be a tragedy.

Bertolt slipped off his shoes, walking around in his socks as quietly as he could. He pulled his coat off, hanging it up, and set the groceries down. He settled for a moment, feeling how cold and still the apartment was. Erwin's quiet breathing still came from the bedroom, and he could tell the man was still asleep. Erwin wasn't a loud sleeper, but he snored ever so often, and it was enough to alert Bertolt. Rubbing his hands together, Bertolt walked to the gas range, setting a pan down and turning the fire, hoping that making breakfast could warm him up a bit.

There were small moments where Bertolt lazily drifted off, yet he remembered what Erwin liked. Sunny side up, which Bertolt could never understand, but reasoned with him. He preferred scrambled, but after two years of college he wondered if it was just the ease of making them that made scrambled eggs his favourite. As he was lost in little thoughts about eggs, Bertolt felt two hands snake around his body and squeeze him tightly. Bertolt blinked a few times, deducing that Erwin had awakened. He paused for a few seconds, needing some time to think, and found himself smiling.

"Good morning." Bertolt whispered sweetly, not wanting to be too loud, though it was Erwin who usually told him he ought to speak up.

"Good morning." Erwin responded, he was much more awake now than earlier.

"I went out and got a few things. Batteries too, thank you for reminding me. We didn't need too much stuff. It was interesting this morning though. There was a robbery by the jewellery store down the street." Bertolt explained. "I saw it happen, I figure I tell Annie, or maybe someone in your department."

"Really? Which store?" Erwin asked, craning his neck a bit until the bones that creaked in his neck finally popped. He slipped his hands away from Bertolt, who turned his head, frowning for a moment after the loss of heat.

"The one by the bakery, you know the one Krista works at?" Bertolt explained. "It was only a few stores away. They had guns though, I'm sure the guys are probably working on it right now..." Bertolt drifted off as he tried to make sure he pulled the eggs off perfectly, setting them in a plate. He rummaged through the ice box, pulling out some bockwurst that he began to fry in the pan a few minutes on each side. The scent of mixed meat and other spices settled Bertolt a bit, he was used to cooking for Erwin, it was one of the few things he liked to do that Erwin didn't, so he was glad to provide. Bertolt could hear the distinct noise of the TV being turned on and he twisted his head around to see Erwin settling on the couch, sighing to himself and flicking to the news. Bertolt sighed softly and cut slices of bread. He could no longer whine at Erwin to stop watching the news, it was his morning ritual, and Bertolt respected his own rituals to not be bothered, so he would do the same for Erwin.

Time eventually passed for breakfast to be arranged, and Bertolt set the plates down on the table for them both. Bertolt wrapped his arms around Erwin, craning over the couch, and kissed his neck softly. He twitched feeling Erwin turn, brushing his stubble across his cheek. A soft breath escaped his lips and he reciprocated by kissing him softly on the forehead.

"Krista told me to tell you something. I was going to tell you it anyway." Bertolt mumbled softly against his skin. Erwin tilted his head up to look at the taller man. He gave a soft mumble to tell him to continue and Bertolt slid down into the seat next to him, wrapping his arms around Erwin and resting his head on his shoulders.

"Happy birthday." Bertolt gave a bit of enthusiasm to it, but he knew Erwin did not really notice it. Erwin grunted and rolled his eyes, leaning in towards Bertolt.

"Don't remind me..." Erwin huffed, and pulled the taller man close to his chest. Bertolt slid down in the chair a bit so he could be comfortable in Erwin's grip. He hugged Bertolt close to him, and pressed his lips to his forehead. Bertolt smiled a bit, his dark eyes looking to the man for a moment, but Erwin seemed to look displeased.

"Oh come on... it's not that bad. It's the first time I get to celebrate your birthday with you. You always end up working on your birthday." Bertolt grumbled into his chest, tilting his head a bit. Erwin shook his head, turning.

"So? It's a lot of other people's birthdays too... I don't mind working on my birthday." Erwin replied, folding his arms around Bertolt. He squirmed to sit upright against Erwin, hoping not to loom over him as he did so. Bertolt pressed his lips to the side of Erwin's neck and made his way up to his lips and cheeks.

"This one is special though." Bertolt replied. "You're forty."

Erwin grimaced as soon as he finished the sentence, and Bertolt rolled his eyes again, reaching forward and hugging the man against his own chest, switching the role this time. Bertolt hugged and groomed the man's hair with his fingers in silence, just smiling. Bertolt waited for the other to speak, and Erwin seemed to be a little hesitant until he shifted upward a bit, out of the man's grip on him.

"Damn it..." He cussed, and Bertolt frowned a bit. Though Bertolt had heard a good amount of cussing from Annie and others he worked with, Erwin almost never swore in front of him. He reached out to hold Erwin's hand, but the man pulled away when their hands touched. He did it gradually, as if to not hurt Bertolt's feelings. Erwin ran his fingers through his blonde hair and shut his eyes tightly.

"Damn it." He cussed again. Bertolt pressed to him, and clasped Erwin's hand, not allowing him to pull away again.

"What's wrong?" Bertolt asked, looking over him.

Erwin turned to him, and the grimace faded to more of a discouraged one.

"I'm forty..." He mumbled lowly, Bertolt knitted his brows together as he said so, and he nodded in agreement.

"So? Lots of people are forty." Bertolt replied, trying to use Erwin's logic against him. Erwin just shook his head, and Bertolt could tell the man was a little too deep in thought to be comfortable. He squeezed his hand again, and stood up, beckoning the man over.

"Come on, let's go eat. The food is getting cold." Bertolt suggested. He hoped changing the subject would be helpful to the situation. Erwin was hesitant, but forfeit his thoughts and went to the table with Bertolt. He settled by him as Bertolt pulled out the carton of orange juice and he watched Erwin. His body language had changed, and he almost looked shy. Bertolt felt concern rising in him the more Erwin started to act out, sullen looking and settled back in his chair, quiet. He felt like they had switched bodies or something, but Bertolt didn't say anything more. Bertolt trotted over to set the coffee maker on, and sat by Erwin, smiling softly, and running his hand over Erwin's callous knuckles.

Bertolt started to eat hoping to encourage Erwin. There wasn't much movement on his side. Erwin didn't look very thrilled to eat, his entire disposition had shifted. Bertolt took a bit of sausage, hoping the other would follow. Bertolt watched him poking at the eggs, the yolk dripping over the fork and pooling out towards the bockwurst. Bertolt watched the runny egg-yolk forming a bigger and bigger puddle. He could imagine that security guard from only a few hours ago, collapsed on the side of the road, blood pooling at his waist, covering the pavement with red liquid. His chest heaved painfully. A sudden crowd of screaming poking people-

Bertolt physically shook his head to stop the thought from processing. Erwin twitched, noticing Bertolt's movement. It was a little tic that he knew meant Bertolt was trying to stop thinking about something. Erwin looked down at himself, wondering if he could do it as well, but he had a feeling it didn't actually work. Bertolt picked at his food, trying not to look to distracted over the violent scene he had witnessed earlier. Suddenly the thought of blood running out of the egg yolks had affected his appetite. The coffee maker started to pour out coffee and Bertolt stood, pulling out two mugs and waited for the coffee to stop filtering. He poured the two cups of hot coffee and diluted it with lots of milk and sugar. Erwin's coffee was usually black, with some sugar. It changed with his mood, and Bertolt decided on just a few spoonfuls of sugar. He set the coffee down, settling by Erwin just a bit closer, and ran his hand over his knuckles again. It was a very slow and peaceful movement, waiting to see if Erwin would take the coffee.

"Why are you with me?"

Bertolt stiffened when Erwin spoke after a long pause. Erwin was still looking down at his food, and brought the coffee to his face, wavering for a moment before taking a small sip. He kept his lips pressed together, before finally lifting his head to Bertolt. His eyes had a bit of a concerned expression.

"What do you mean?" Bertolt asked.

"Why are you staying with me? Why do you want to stay with me? I... You have a lot to live for. A lot better to live for. You should go back to college. You're still young."

Bertolt opened his mouth and closed it. 'You sound like my dad' was the first thing that came to his mind, but he had a feeling that it would crush Erwin to hear that. He was already feeling very old. Instead he continued to pet his hand, just running the pads of his fingers over his callous skin. His hands had worn down from work and life, and Bertolt admired them in silence.

"Erwin..." Bertolt looked to the older man, though he wasn't looking back. Bertolt held his hand close and pressed his hand to his own cheek. "We've been together for more than a year. Nineteen months if I'm remembering correctly. What gives you the impression I'm going to get up and leave?" Bertolt paused, but Erwin gave no responses. He sucked in his cheeks and, looked down at Erwin's hands, squeezing them. "Don't feel that way. I like being here because you're here. I wouldn't stay if it wasn't for you. Giving up college was my own choice. Don't ever think that was your fault. I'm happy at my job... as unconventional as it seems."

Erwin looked over Bertolt, blinking a few times before sighing and sitting back in his chair. He set the fork down and gave up on eating. Bertolt did the same, and looked to Erwin, waiting for his response.

"It's just... Damn it." Bertolt twitched when he cussed again. "I'm old."

Bertolt sighed as he said the words. He was glad that Erwin was at least honest about how he felt, but disappointed that he felt that way. Bertolt had always heard bits and pieces of their age difference, but it never affected him personally. He felt a sense of guilt wash over him as he realised that he never fully took Erwin's feeling into account. He had always seen Erwin take rude comments rigidly, and with a smile. If he had ever been affected by his age difference, he had never said so out loud. He must've taken it all internally. Bertolt inhaled, trying to let out a calm breath. If he was right, which he certainly hoped he wasn't, then this was much more serious than he thought. Erwin continued, and he listened to him carefully, a very sympathetic look in his eyes, and he hoped he could express that he cared with that alone.

"I just... it feels like you're too young to want to settle down just yet. You've barely got time to experiment, or date other people.." Erwin started to mumbled, shifting his food around on his plate. "Don't you want that? I don't want you to make a choice you regret. I like having you here... but you've got a lot more ahead of you."

Ah, so that was it.

Bertolt shook his head. Erwin just wanted to know how he felt. He was touched to think the man was only concerned as to how he was feeling. Bertolt knew it was taking a toll on him, so he approached it with a gentle explanation, but at the same time he had to be firm, so Erwin understood.

"I told you, I'm fully capable of making decisions for myself. And I don't want to sleep around. I like waking up next to you. And barely being able to fit in the shower with you. I like worry about paying the rent with you. It's not exciting, sure. But it's not boring. I like having a peaceful, uneventful life. And I'd like a chaotic, messy life too. Just as long as I'm with you." Bertolt tried to sound strong, but he felt his voice going the longer Erwin stared down at the table. The silence crept up on them and settled in the house. Erwin gave an acknowledging gaze, and shut his eyes. He didn't seem to know what to say just yet. Bertolt sighed. At least his feelings were out in the open. Now all he had to do was convince Erwin he wasn't as old as he felt.

Bertolt's gaze fell on the man. He reached out, and cupped his jaw in his hands. It was very slow and meticulous, and he started to massage his neck with his long dexterous fingers. Erwin opened his eyes for a moment, his blue eyes scanned him slowly. The gaze was very blank, and Erwin shut them, just allowing the man to continue. Bertolt scooted forward, and ran his hands over the man's shoulders. His fingers pressed firmly on his shirt, and Erwin could feel how warm Bertolt's hands were. His hands ended up on his shoulder blades, and he nuzzled his hair, pressing his lips over Erwin's skin. His breath fluttered over Erwin's skin and sent chills down his spine. Bertolt could feel them, and smiled as he ran his hands over the front of Erwin's shirt. He started to undo the buttons, drumming his fingers against the scar that stretched across his chest. Erwin sighed, looking to Bertolt. The taller man gave a small smile, it was a normal expression, but his eyes were dark and hazy, the gaze was so suggestive it made Erwin shiver again. Bertolt squeezed Erwin's shoulders, leaning over him. Bertolt didn't like to give silly taunting words, but this time he couldn't help it. He leaned in, kissing his neck, and whispered against his ear.

"I know what will make you feel young.." Bertolt pressed his lips to Erwin's ear and felt him physically shudder. Bertolt himself felt his cheeks flushing red, as much as he was an adult, he knew he was not very good at being seductive. Erwin usually didn't expect it out of him, so he was glad to get the opportunity to use it as a surprise. Bertolt nuzzled his forehead to the man for a moment and pulled away until Erwin was looking to him confused as to why he was done. Bertolt stepped back, gesturing the man to follow.

"Come, I'll give you your birthday present." Bertolt purred, smiling again. Erwin stepped out of his chair, watching Bertolt for a long moment. He raised one of his thick blonde eyebrows and followed Bertolt to the bedroom. The taller man walked to the bathroom, locking it behind him. Bertolt had a good amount of birthday presents for Erwin, all to be distributed in due time.

The first time Erwin's birthday ever came around after Bertolt started dating him, he had not even been home. Erwin had been working all day, and didn't even mention it was his birthday until the day after. The only reason he had stayed home now was it was his actual day off. Bertolt wondered if it was just an overall feeling towards birthdays, yet when his own birthday came around Erwin pampered him and showered him with gifts. Bertolt had deduced that Erwin simply hated his own birthday. He never said why, and so he never argued with it. Regardless, Bertolt wanted the man to be pampered on his birthday, even if he hated the day.

Bertolt slipped off his clothes, setting them in a laundry basket. He examined himself in the mirror for a moment and looked at his skin. He wanted to make himself look a bit more attractive, and started to groom his hair a bit better, washing his face. He kneeled down, opening a small box under the sink. Erwin was very apprehensive to look through Bertolt's belongings. Bertolt knew that very well, and took advantage of it on rare occasions. He opened his box in which he had put some of his more erotic clothing. Of course, Bertolt didn't buy a lot for obvious reasons. Sex had not been the main point of their relationship, and two, even if it was a main point, Bertolt found it near impossible to find clothing in his size. Still, Bertolt didn't want to go out of his way to rant that lingerie was only in smaller women's sizes, it was an area of fashion he didn't care to argue too much about.

Bertolt looked down at the costume. It was simple lingerie, a corset, a bra with a transparent dress attached, a thong, stockings and garter, dark black and decorated in lace. It was a miracle that it came in his size, and he certainly hoped Erwin enjoyed it. Erwin had never given him the impression that he didn't like lingerie, so he tried not to think of how it would be if he didn't like it. Bertolt couldn't stop thinking though, his mind always raced to the most extreme point, and it was the only part of being a detective that he regretted. He slipped on the thong, and placed the bra on, tightening the straps so it laid flat on his chest. The transparent dress stopped at his thighs, and he lifted it, tying the thin corset to his body. It was covered in lace and he took his time trying to make sure none of the laces snapped or shred while he pulled it over his abdomen. His body was heavy and lanky, but his tallness made him look skinnier than he actually was. He sighed, looking down at himself. He was almost done with the outfit. The hardest part was always the stockings.

Bertolt sat down on the tile, looking over the stockings as if they were such a peculiar device. It was the only part that didn't fit very well. His legs were always just a bit too long for anything. He took his time, slipping the mesh black stocking's on, and attaching the thong suspenders to the garter. As he rose to stand his feet found little resistance to the tile, and slipped, falling on his behind. He threw his arms out to catch the counter, and instinctively let out a yelp.

"Ah!" he squeaked, and shut his eyes, feeling his legs trembling at the sudden shock of falling. His body felt a rush as his centre of gravity left him and he sighed, trying to keep his body upright.

"Bertolt? You okay?" Erwin's voice came muffled through the door.

Bertolt hesitated, still feeling embarrassed over the whole situation, and shifted a bit, swallowing thickly, his mouth felt dry.

"I... I'm fine." He squeaked, trying to stand up a bit slower this time. Bertolt heard the door click, and felt a rush of panic come over him. He wanted to slam the door shut, and leaned over to shut the door, only slipping and falling back on the tile again. The door opened and he covered his face, feeling his ears rushing a pinkish-red. There was a silent moment, and Bertolt was still too embarrassed to look up. He spread his fingers apart, trying to gather enough courage to look Erwin in the eye.

Erwin was smiling, his mouth shut and his arms folded, and he looked like he was trying not to laugh. Bertolt shut his eyes, feeling humiliation and shame teaming in his stomach and filling his head like a virus. His mind started to race as it always did. He second guessed every decision he ever made in his life at these moments. How humiliating. What a stupid idea this was, Erwin might not have even liked lingerie. How stupid he must've looked in-

"You're too precious." Erwin said. He wasn't sarcastic, he sounded like he was being honest. It was enough to stop Bertolt's train of thought from going crazy and giving him a panic attack. Bertolt shamefully looked up at Erwin. As much as he appreciated the comment, he was hoping he'd look a little sexier than 'precious'. Erwin folded his arms, and leaned over to speak. "You shouldn't feel obligated to buy things for me for my birthday. I appreciate you as you are... but I do appreciate you in lingerie too."

Bertolt looked down at himself, and gently settled his hands in his lap. He still felt his stomach flooding with embarrassment and sinking as if there was stones. He sighed softly, and lifted his hands helplessly to Erwin.

"Could you help me up?" he asked weakly, and gave him a pathetic smile.

Erwin nodded and walked over, slowly getting down on his knees in front of Bertolt. Bertolt stared at him for a moment before he realised the position Erwin wanted to hold him in. Erwin reached out, hugging the man close, and scooped him up, holding his behind firmly as he brought Bertolt forward. Bertolt instinctively wrapped his legs around Erwin's waist. He found his free hand coming to cover his face while his other gripped on Erwin's shoulder for support. He blushed, knowing he was too tall to be held this way, but Erwin did his best to try. Erwin settled his head against Bertolt's chest, pressing his lips to his collarbone and against the base of his neck. He whispered sweetly to Bertolt, making him blush redder and redder.

"I'm so fortunate... to have someone as handsome as you... As lovely as you..." He started to lay Bertolt on the bed, looking over the man. "Don't cover your face. You look wonderful this way..." Bertolt couldn't help wanting to cover his face as Erwin stared, his eyes were dark blue, and his smile was so rare and strange, yet remarkable. Bertolt tried to stop covering his face, he was still so embarrassed. It wasn't the first time he wore lingerie, and it wasn't the first time he had blundered in front of Erwin, but it was the first time a combination of the two happened.

Bertolt lifted his hands to continue unbuttoning Erwin's shirt the man watched Bertolt's fingers undoing the buttons, and leaned in, kissing his neck and shoulders. He ran his hands over Erwin's scars, riddling his chest and shoulders, and pushed his shirt off, settling it on the ground next to them. His arms had old scars that Bertolt traced gently with the pads of his fingers. Erwin lifted his head, watching the man and leaned in, meeting his lips in a heated kiss. His breath was warm and gentle against his skin, and his lips were very soft. Bertolt gasped against him and moaned as he felt Erwin's hands running down his chest, pinching at his nipples through the fabric. The kiss was broken as Bertolt shut his eyes, moaning and bucking his thin hips into Erwin's. Erwin could feel the strain of Bertolt's erection in a thong that was far too small for him. He pressed his thigh in between Bertolt's legs giving some much needed friction between the rough fabric.

Bertolt began to gasp, and rocked his hips inward, gripping the bed sheet for better leverage. Erwin pressed his fingertips over the bra, teasing his nipples through the fabric before eventually pulling it down to examine it fully. Bertolt gasped a little, Erwin pushed his knee up against his thong while he settled his head down on Bertolt's chest, and began sucking softly against one of the pert nipples. Bertolt let out a hissing whine, and clawed the bed as two sensitive spots were teased. He bucked his hips into Erwin again, moaning for more attention to his lower region. Erwin used one hand to sneak down, squeezing and gripping the man's cock. Erwin could feel the thin clear fluid that leaked from Bertolt's member, it had seeped through the thong and left the fabric more transparent than it already was. He could clearly see Bertolt's cock, stiff and lengthy, matching his physique . Erwin pushed his thumb against the head of Bertolt's cock, which was peeking from the thong. Bertolt moaned, dropping his head back against the pillows.

"You look so beautiful.. Your skin is so soft..." Erwin mumbled, his other hand was freely tracing Bertolt's torso, flicking and pinching his nipple while running along his skin, feeling the chills that went up Bertolt's spine. Bertolt had such smooth satin-like skin that had been tanned by the sun in his early years. Erwin kissed along his collarbones and the centre of his chest. He started to tease his sleek wet skin around his thong and stroked Bertolt fondly

"Erwin..." Bertolt pushed his hips upward shamelessly, begging to be touched more. Erwin shut his eyes and smiled against the other's warm skin. Bertolt's fingers found their way into Erwin's hair as he began to tease his nipple, licking the pink nubs slowly and nipping them gingerly, enough to elicit a groan, or sigh of frustration as Bertolt begged for more.

"What do you want me to do?" Erwin tilted his head, gazing over how red Bertolt had become. Bertolt whined at the question and bucked his hips up into Erwin's hand.

"Y-you know what I want..." Bertolt mumbled, his voice was shaky, as well as his body. He started wrapping his legs around Erwin's thighs. "N-no teasing..." he mumbled, his eyes were already half-lidded and filled with pleasure. He bucked up again right as Erwin pressed down, his hand releasing Bertolt. He clawed at the bed once the heat of Erwin's hand had been lost, only to moan in satisfaction as Erwin grinded his hips down, undoing his own pants so their cocks could be pressed together. Bertolt ground his hips forward roughly, and fumbled as he tried to undo the thong. Erwin gave a soft satisfied moan as he felt their skin together. It was a heated moment as he felt Bertolt shudder beneath him, and his own body subconsciously reciprocated to Bertolt's actions.

"No teasing." Erwin repeated. "All right. What constitutes as not teasing?" Bertolt grinded his teeth a bit, moaning as his hips were ground into, he could even feel the rough fabric still around Erwin's thighs.

"Stop that..." Bertolt found his voice reduced to whining. He knew what Erwin wanted, for him to gasp and beg to be fucked. Not that Bertolt didn't want it that way, but it was too embarrassing, and not to mention his earlier failure had bruised his dignity. He swallowed, moaning a bit as he looked to Erwin. He had a soft look in his eyes and was still running his hands over his skin. Erwin started to tease again and sucked small reddish marks on his collar. Bertolt knew that Erwin would never want to humiliate him in any way, and he sighed against Erwin's skin. It was his birthday after all, so he sucked in his breath, trying to swallow his shame, and pressed his lips against Erwin's temple, kissing his forehead sweetly.

"Erwin..." He rumbled, his voice was deep and quiet. "A-ah... E-Erwin..." Bertolt moaned softly as his hips bucked suddenly into Erwin's. The heat was maddening and the sensation was leaving him a trembling mess. His voice was almost gone as he started to beg. "Please... f-fuck me... R-right now." He moaned, trying to sound more commanding. It sounded much more like begging, but in the heat of it all, Erwin wasn't trying to distinguish the difference. Erwin tensed up, and gripped Bertolt close.

"You're so beautiful..." Erwin mumbled against his skin. Bertolt wasn't sure who initiated the kissing, but he leaned into it, opening his mouth and running his tongue against Erwin's lips. He found Erwin grinding down on his cock and gasped, the heat was intoxicating and it was difficult to breathe. Erwin leaned forward for a second, still in the midst of kissing Bertolt, and he popped open the nightstand drawer. Bertolt opened his eyes to see him quickly retrieve a tube of lubricant. Bertolt panted into the kiss and shamelessly ground his hips downward. Erwin shied away, and he whined at the loss of heat, it was exasperating, his thighs were slick with precum, and sweat beaded on the back of his neck and forehead.

"Fuck me... p-please..." Bertolt felt desperate for more contact, and looked to Erwin. He realised what a mess he must've looked like. His face flushed red to his ears, saliva escaping his lips, his eyes tearing up out of frustration. Erwin leaned over as best he could, pressing to Bertolt's kiss swollen lips. He smiled softly, kissing his way down his throat.

"Calm down... I've got to prepare you... I don't want you... getting hurt." Erwin drifted the more he bit and sucked at Bertolt's skin, leaving small marks along his neck and chest. "You're so beautiful... I can't stand it... I don't know what I did to deserve you." Bertolt cut him off with a soft moan as Erwin pushed in one of his slick fingers after he had covered them with lubricant. Bertolt felt his hips pushing downward, his eyes shutting tightly. It was still such an odd sensation after so long, his heat encompassing the digit inside of him.

"You're so good to me..." Erwin mumbled against his chest as he started to work his finger in and out. His voice was starting to slur from being aroused, and he smiled against his skin. Bertolt moaned, the scent of strawberries hit his nose, the lubricant always carried such a strong scent. He groaned, pushing himself down senselessly.

"Faster..." He grumbled, spreading his legs out a bit more. Erwin looked down at Bertolt, and lifted one of his sock covered thighs, throwing it over his shoulder. Bertolt was tall enough to make the position work, and he groaned as he felt two fingers suddenly prying inside of him, working in and out quickly. Erwin was kissing his knee, running his hand over the course stocking fabric. Bertolt's head was pushing back into the pillows, moaning and sputtering for more. He wanted more contact, ached for it, and he could feel Erwin's fingers pushing as deep as they could go. Bertolt gasped loudly as he dropped his head back, his cock twitching as Erwin's fingers rubbed against a very sensitive spot inside him. Erwin began to tease him, watching his responses.

"There's that spot..." Erwin mumbled, kissing his thigh again. Bertolt nearly sobbed as his fingers left him, and he bit his lip to stop any more whines. "Relax..." Erwin mumbled, watching Bertolt squirm. "Just give me some time..."

Bertolt didn't want to give him any more time, he was taking a hellish amount of time in the first place. He groaned as three fingers pushed their way into his tight entrance. Erwin always wanted Bertolt to be prepared as much as possible, while still making it pleasurable. Bertolt could never summon enough courage to tell him how desperate it made him. It was torturous as Erwin would re-lube his fingers, and start to thrust them in and out slowly. Bertolt's toes curled up, his body reeled inward. He was a gasping, aching mess, saliva dripping down his chin as he pushed the side of his face into the pillows. It was a two hellish minutes before Erwin was done with his prepping. When his fingers were removed, Bertolt moaned in compliance, wiggling his hips a bit.

"Ready?" Erwin mumbled against his thighs, now slick with sweat and lube.

"Y-yes..." Bertolt choked out, gasping for air. Bertolt ground his teeth down in annoyance. Erwin only asked to tease him, as if he would say 'no', put on his clothes, and be done with it. He felt heat from Erwin pressing his cock against his thighs and moaned again softly, lifting his other stocking covered leg and wrapped it around Erwin. After being so slow and meticulous for so long Bertolt moaned from the surprise of how fast Erwin was. His thrusts were quick and despite all the stretching, Bertolt could feel his cock scraping every good spot inside of him, quickly reducing to a sputtering mess of moans and gibberish. Erwin allowed no recovery from his thrust, each time he pulled out he thrust back in faster and faster, Bertolt's toes curled back and forth, his breath embellished the air with moans and gasps. Erwin fucked him like no tomorrow and Bertolt could feel his cock rutting against Erwin's stomach and his own thigh.

Erwin fucked him hard and long, his body ached and trembled as he rut into his prostate. Bertolt couldn't speak sensibly, just moans and the wet slick noises coming from between them. He could feel the blood rushing from his head and he felt like he would black out from the amount of pleasure pooling in him. Erwin did nothing to slow his movement, and Bertolt released the bed sheets as he felt his body jolt. It was violent, there was no slow build up, and so very blissful, Bertolt came against Erwin's stomach, moaning his name into the bed sheets. He shifted, his stomach tightened as he felt heat spread up his stomach and to his chest. He rode out as much as he could, his moans were a mess of ecstasy and pleasure. His sweat damp hair fell over his eyes as he collapsed into the bed.

Erwin continued for a few more seconds as Bertolt tightened and gasped so blissfully in front of him. He held Bertolt close as his body jerked. He came inside Bertolt, panting at the sensation of the orgasm, watching Bertolt's face flush red, his eyes half-lidded. His hands came forward and wrapped around Bertolt's body as he laid alongside of him.  
There was a silent moment where Bertolt felt Erwin's hand running through his hair. He shuddered as he shifted forward, the air was so warm and Bertolt could feel his body still trembling like an aftershock. Erwin wrapped his arms around him, settling his hands on his shoulders, and slowly massaging his neck. Bertolt smiled softly, wrapping his arms around Erwin and kissing his neck, nuzzling his jaw, and planting a kiss on his ear. His head turned ever so slightly for Bertolt to see the alarm clock on the night stand.

"Oh no." Bertolt sat upright, wincing at the sensation shooting up his spine.

"What?" Erwin looked around, still in a haze of lust.

"I forgot. It's already noon..." Bertolt shifted around in bed, and leaned over, kissing the confused Erwin against the cheek. "I ordered some food. I have to go pick it up."

"Ordered it for what?" Erwin looked at him perplexed.

"For the party." Bertolt replied calmly, tensing up as he awaited the reaction.

"The what?" Erwin asked.

"Your birthday party." Bertolt huffed, and folded his arms as he adjusted his bra straps. He could see Erwin looking a bit disgruntled and he sighed hopelessly. "Come on... It's not that bad, I promise. I only invited a few people. It'll be small."

"How many is this few?" Erwin asked, he didn't sound angry, he never got angry, but he did sound a bit vexed.

"Only sixish people." Bertolt rolled his eyes as he got up out of bed. His legs wobbled a bit, and he groaned, leaning on the sheets. Erwin leaned forward and pulled Bertolt close, kissing his lips softly for a moment.

"You better make up for this." Erwin grumbled.

"I'm trying." Bertolt replied with a bit of sarcasm as he pulled off the stockings. He stepped over to the bathroom, seeing Erwin staring at him. He cleaned himself up a bit, wishing to take a shower, but he had a feeling that he would be late if he did. He exited quickly and started to change into decent clothing, pulling off the corset. Erwin was sitting in bed, his arms folded and a clearly upset look on his face. Bertolt sighed, deciding to be blunt if Erwin wasn't going to be mature. "It hasn't even started yet... It won't be that bad, I promise."

"You better be right." Erwin huffed. Bertolt rolled his eyes. How could one man hate his own birthday so much? He pulled on a turtleneck sweater, despite his body still being a little heated. He knew he needed to cover the marks left behind.

"I'm sure you'll live." Bertolt remarked, and once again, left with the final word on the situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed, if you didn't, I hope you can tell me how I can improve. Thank you for reading. Please leave a comment or kudos, and find me on my blog Arcadia-mahler on tumblr for prompts.


	2. The Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bertolt can get possessive too, and Annie knows what buttons to press.

Levi was the first to arrive.

Bertolt had predicted that, though was still not good acquaintances with Erwin's co-workers and friends. He felt now would be good time to get to know them, though he had a distinct feeling Levi did not like him very much. They had only met by one phone call, and the air Levi gave was one that did not want to be distracted. By evening the city had been enveloped in cold October rains, and Levi kicked his boots against the hallway carpets before knocking on the door. Bertolt answered quickly, smiling as he met the shorter man at the door.

            "Corporal Levi." Bertolt said politely.

            Levi rolled his eyes as if he had disgusted him. Bertolt raised his brow a bit.

            "Please, no titles. I'm off work." Levi huffed, pulling an umbrella close to his side. He adjusted his tie slightly, turning his head. "Hanji will be in shortly."

            "Come inside." Bertolt beckoned, opening the door. He had cleaned the house up considerably, hoping he wouldn't have to go through any of Levi's reviews. The small select times he had met Levi he had noticed how clean the man liked to be, to the point of an obsession, though maybe he was just over thinking it.

            "Levi." Erwin said as he noticed his friend. Levi nodded his head as to respond. Bertolt could see he was the quiet type, and decided against trying to make small talk. Levi's friendship was dealt only to small groups of people. Erwin just so happened to be one of them. Bertolt could hear another person approaching, ambling around as he noticed Hanji carrying in a few bags, she had been doused in rainwater, and she huddled her bags close to avoid them from being soaked. She had a disgruntled look on her face until she saw Bertolt, and she attempted to wave with her elbow, her arms too full to lift them.

            "Good evening Hanji." Bertolt chuckled and reached out to relieve her of the packages.

            "Oh- thank you." she huffed as she was released from her effects. "No need to be formal Bertolt you sound like a butler." she remarked and pinched his cheek. Bertolt winced a bit, he didn't really like being treated like a child, but Hanji always teased him in good spirit. She immediately stamped into the room dripping wet still and rubbing her goggle-like glasses clean.

            "Levi!" she screeched. "You didn't even wait for me!"

            "I told you I would leave if you didn't hurry up." Levi turned, setting the umbrella in the holder by the door.

            "You could have left the umbrella with me." Hanji remarked.

            "There was only one. I told you."

            "Then you could have waited!"

            Bertolt walked to the bathroom as the two argued back and forth. He felt a smile appearing on his face but he quickly let it fade. Bertolt retrieved a large towel to . Hanji and Levi bickered as Bertolt laid out the towels until he heard a louder deep voice.

            "Do you two ever give it a rest?"

            Bertolt turned to see a taller officer with short blonde hair and a piercing gaze. He stood up, smiling a bit as he got out of the way. "Reiner." Bertolt replied, relaxing a bit.

            "Hey Bertl, It's been a while." he huffed, slapping the taller man on the back. Bertolt stumbled from it, but quickly laughed it off. Ever since their childhood Reiner had always been a very strong person. Many of the high school teachers were disappointed to learn Reiner wanted to be a cop instead of a college football player. Reiner wanted a job that would help people, not himself. Bertolt had not seen much of him since graduating, and he was glad to see he had not changed much at all.

            "How's college going?" Reiner asked, tilting his head.

            "Oh." Bertolt laughed a bit, looking to his feet. "Well I got my associates but um... I left."

            "What?" Reiner scrunched up his brows a bit more than usual. "I thought it was going well."

            "It was going good... It was just expensive. And well.. I got a job offer. I like what I do now though. It's been different, but I think I've found the job for me." Bertolt explained, shrugging his shoulders, trying to seem indifferent.

            "That's good. As long as you like your job." Reiner replied. Bertolt stepped inside the kitchen trying to assemble a good way to display the food. "What kind of work is it?"

            "Detective work." Bertolt replied. "It feels a little unorthodox sometimes, but everything is legal and all. It's just a very small firm is all. There's a lawyer and everything- well, a lawyer in training. He's still very smart, and he's a little bit better at explaining things than me."

            Reiner nodded his head silently to explain he understood. "I'm sure that went over well with Erwin." He remarked, smirking a bit.

            "How could you tell?" Bertolt replied sardonically, raising his brow.

            "I know I don't work with him, but he's kind of the protective type isn't he?" Reiner replied, shrugging his shoulders. "Seems like it anyway. I don't know him personally, he's just teaching us what to do. I don't know if he likes the trainees that much, but his personality shows when you're around him long enough."

            "Speaking of trainees where's Connie and Sasha? Are they coming?" Bertolt asked, looking to the food and folding his arms again, trying to seem at least a bit more comfortable.

            "Ah, not Sasha, she's with Mike doing filing and crap." Reiner explained. "Connie went to grab something... I don't know where he went. Hopefully he's not stumbling around. He wanted to carry everything on his own."

            "I thought you said the apartment was on the tenth floor! Fourth door!" Connie's voice suddenly huffed, he looked a little flustered and Bertolt poked his head out, seeing the boy stumbling with a few boxes. He quickly removed the load of boxes from Connie's arms. The boy was fairly small in size and he looked grateful to see his own effects whisked away.

            "I said the fourth floor, tenth door!" Bertolt smirked as he heard Reiner grumble. It was a simple confusion, but Bertolt was glad that most of the people had showed up.  After all the confusion blew over, Bertolt watched everyone settle into place. Bertolt had never been good at being the leader, and he was thankful that Reiner was able to get the party to turn towards eating and eventually everyone could simply be left to their own devices.

            Bertolt noticed Erwin talking with Levi a bit sectioned off from the others. Hanji was speaking with Connie and Reiner, she seemed fairly enthusiastic, though it was hard to think of a time when she wasn't. Bertolt found himself settling across from Reiner and Connie. He ate quietly, just observing the people in front of him. Bertolt knew he had never been very social, and it was nice to be around a group of people that at least respected that without having to understand him fully. About an hour passed when Bertolt heard a very soft noise. He had become very alert to small things and honed in on it.

            It was a knock on the door.

            "Who could that be?" He asked out loud.

            "Who could what be?" Connie asked, lifting his head from his food.

            "I'll be right back." Bertolt replied as he got up, walking to the door quietly. He pushed the door open, and was surprised to find a fairly short blonde woman at the door.

            "A-Annie?" Bertolt asked. "What brings you here?"

            Annie had dressed up in a white button shirt and tight black pants. She had her hair down, which was unusual, but it had been combed back evenly and parted just like it looked when it was up. Despite it she still held a scowl on her face, and kept her arms folded, a very small present in her hands.

            "You invited me didn't you?" Annie huffed back, stepping inside. She looked around at the room and sighed softly. "You thought I wasn't coming?"

            Bertolt felt a bit of guilt flaring up in his stomach. He hadn't thought Annie wasn't coming, he had  _wished_  Annie wasn't coming. He had no ill feelings towards his boss, and he only invited her out of the goodness of his heart. He tried not to pester it though, he only left one message and never tried to call her again. She never called back, and Bertolt had a feeling that Annie just didn't want to come over. Bertolt had learned that if people thought he was awkward in conversations, they had never seen Annie. Annie had taught him a lot, and he was appreciative of that, but the last time he had ever tried to take her out to a dinner as a form of getting to know each other better, it had ended with the waitress in tears. Annie had criticised the waitresses stance, and remarked something about abandonment issues with her father. Bertolt had learned that Annie's detective abilities could never truly be turned off. He had started to learn that it rubbed off on him too, though he was certainly not as cruel about it as Annie.

            "Well I'm glad you came." Bertolt remarked.

            "Liar." Annie huffed, and held the gift close as she saw Bertolt try to take it away. "I can give this to the birthday boy myself. It's bad enough that he can't stop talking about you, don't act like his servant."

            "T-talking about me?" Annie had never met Erwin past Bertolt's small conversation pieces here and there. Annie turned her head to face Erwin more directly. She narrowed her pale blue eyes and shook her head sighing softly.

            "See? He's slouched over and his feet are back. He's turned to the left and facing the wall a bit. The one that shorter guy is leaning on." Annie pointed out Erwin's body language, and Levi, who was propped by the large bay window in the living room, leaning back a bit. He had a dark expression on his face, and he rubbed the back of his neck the more Erwin continued to talk. Annie turned her head continuing. "He doesn't want anyone else to hear what he's talking about. Probably talking about his feelings and crap like that. Or he's getting those 'I'm too old' thoughts in his head huh? He doesn't even want to be around anyone right now..."

            Annie turned her head to Bertolt, narrowing her eyes at him.

            "Doesn't help that you have the 'Sorry for making you feel old' sex written all over your body. Though you hid it in the turtleneck pretty well." she added, looking just the slightest bit amused.

            "Please don't be this way all night." Bertolt pleaded silently.

            "I'm an adult." Annie replied. "Have you no faith in me?"

            Bertolt decided not to answer that.

            After Annie's analysis on Erwin, Bertolt couldn't help looking to his lover ever so often. He sighed a little bit inwardly. His appetite always had to be the first thing affected, didn't it? Bertolt gave up eating when he felt guilt filling his stomach. Erwin did look a little withdrawn, and sitting close to Levi, who even seemed concerned himself. Bertolt began to consider whether he should approach Erwin or not. Friendship was different from relationships though, and Bertolt felt shy to really intervene. Levi had known Erwin longer than anyone else, and he was older too. Perhaps he could understand Erwin's feelings more than Bertolt would. Bertolt tried to settle himself, thinking any more about this would only make him feel guiltier.

            Annie was eating and smoking at the same time, a habit Bertolt wished she'd stop. Erwin usually didn't smoke in the house, and Bertolt was slightly bothered by the way the scent of it clung to the couch and her hair. She settled back in her chair, picking at her food and keeping her present to her side. Bertolt decided, after Annie had taught him so much, perhaps he could return the favour, and teach her how to be a normal human being.

            "Make small talk." he mumbled as he lifted a glass of water to his face.

            "What?" Annie lifted her head. "Why?"

            "Just... try to act like a normal human being." Bertolt remarked, taking a sip.

            "That's rich coming from you." Annie huffed, smoke wreathing around Bertolt's hair.

            "Annie... you could at least try." Bertolt didn't want to push it, she was his boss after all. Annie scrunched up her face a bit and looked around at the people nearest to her. Connie and Reiner were sitting next to each other, both had been fairly quiet for most of the night. Bertolt watched Annie as she straightened up, pulling out a small circular box. It looked like a compact mirror but on close inspection it was actually an ashtray. She stamped out the cigarette, grumbling to herself on what to say and Bertolt watched her hopefully.

            "So... uh..." Annie looked over Reiner, her eyes glancing to Connie for a second before she focused back on him. "How long you two been fucking?"

            Reiner nearly turned the his drink into a projectile from Annie's question Connie looked wide-eyed and his face flushed red. Bertolt felt his hand covering his face before he had processed doing such a thing. He was glad it wasn't himself to be humiliated, but he was not sure if this was better or worse. He turned to Annie, an incredulous look on his face and he could see her shrugging, looking to him as if he was her coach. Her eyes acted innocent, as if they posed the question 'Was is something I said?'

            "Who told you?" Connie asked immediately.

            "Connie!" Reiner snapped, his own face had burned reddish as well. Bertolt bit his tongue when he felt laughter starting to come up. He couldn't help admitting that never in his life had he seen someone fluster Reiner, and he gave Annie credit for that. He also never did he imagine Reiner being gay, but life was full of surprises.

            "Sorry, I just thought it was obvious." Annie replied, though Bertolt knew she would have posed the question differently if she actually thought it was obvious. "You haven't stopped touching each other."

            Bertolt blinked a few times, as he tried to see if Annie was actually right. As soon as she spoke he notice Reiner's arm twitch away from Connie slightly. Bertolt could guess that it landed right on Connie's thigh, at least from perspective. Bertolt turned to Annie, who he could see was smug with herself.

            "Um... well..." Reiner ran his fingers through his short blonde hair, trying to patch up the situation. Connie still looked like he was in shock and kept his head down, leaning towards Reiner.

            "No need to explain. It's written all over your faces." Annie remarked, and pulled out a new cigarette. Bertolt sighed softly, wishing he could apologize to the two. "You two are both sitting in two gay men's house, I don't know why you would think it's taboo or anything. Unless one of you are married or something... I mean, it's not that taboo to me, but whatever boundary you think defines you isn't up to me."

            "Wh-what? No! Neither of us are married." Reiner grumbled, he sounded angry, but Bertolt could tell he was just embarrassed.

            "Then what are you getting your panties in a knot for?" Annie huffed. Reiner and Connie didn't seem able to respond and Annie shrugged it off, looking to Bertolt.

            "I am so sorry..." Bertolt mumbled to them, covering his face.

            "You almost seem embarrassed by me." Annie remarked, puffing more smoke into his hair. Bertolt sighed regretfully and turned to Annie, lifting his glass of water. His throat always felt dry when she spoke.

            "I get it. I will never ask you to speak again." Bertolt huffed, and took a large gulp of ice cold water. Annie just shrugged indignantly.

            "Why don't we start opening presents already?" Annie piped up, who seemed done embarrassing the two cops. Connie nodded in agreement, and Bertolt sighed, the boy looked near petrified.  When Annie spoke it was caught Erwin's attention. Erwin looked away from Levi, he looked near embarrassed to have the focus directed to himself. The two were still innocent of what Annie had said earlier.

            "I think that's a good idea." Hanji replied, and stood up to grab her present she had left on the table. Annie was still holding her gift and looked over it for a moment before she held it out. Erwin walked over quietly, he seemed a bit tentative to receive presents. Levi was mumbling something to him about being too humble, and shoved him along.

            "Looks like you got competition."

            Bertolt blinked a few times realizing Annie had spoken to him. He turned his head, his eyes opened a bit wider. He tried to put together what she had said, and felt a pain shoot through his heart as he contemplated it. Surely she was just cracking jokes now? Bertolt knew Annie could be cruel to his expense but... Annie was smiling, her eyes were on Levi. Bertolt turned to follow her gaze. Levi had his hand against the small of Erwin's back, and was pushing him along. Erwin had an awkward smile on his face, and he settled in his chair, looking down at himself. Levi brushed his bangs back, turning his head a bit.

            "If you whine so much about looking like an old man you ought to shave more often." Levi remarked, running his hands over Erwin's chin.

            "You're one to talk." Erwin huffed, folding his arms.

            Bertolt blinked a few times, watching the two men. Annie was relaxed in her chair, puffing her cigarette a few times. Bertolt curled his hands up a bit. Surely she was lying. There was nothing going on between the two. Levi had been Erwin's friend for such a long time, there was no way he could have feelings like that. Competition...? What did she even mean by that? Bertolt turned his head away, staring at Annie

            "What are you talking about Annie?" Bertolt growled, trying to pretend he hadn't seen anything.

            "Happy birthday Erwin." Annie exclaimed, to drown out Bertolt. Bertolt grimaced at her for a moment, before settling back in his chair. She said nothing more, and held out his present to Erwin, setting it down.

            "Thank you." Erwin replied, nodding his head to her. "Annie, yes?"

            "Yes, Annie Leonhart. We never really met did we? Bertolt is such a shy creature... He never invites me anywhere you know?" she turned to look at Bertolt, nodding her head. "He really ought to speak up more often... About what he's thinking." Annie glanced over to Levi for a moment, and smiled to Erwin.

            "I'm sure you've gotten to know each other well." Erwin replied, looking over her.

            "Oh, I feel there's a few things we still don't understand about each other." Annie replied. "But that's all fine and dandy it's not about me, it's about you right now." Bertolt could hear Annie's false sympathy and slight sarcasm. Annie was always kind to people out of irony, people believed anything, that's what she always said. Bertolt wasn't worried about that though, he was a little bit more worried about how Levi's hand never seemed to leave Erwin. And how Erwin seemed to smile a lot more because of it.

            "Am I going to open your gift first?" Erwin asked, turning to Levi. Levi shrugged and pulled away a bit. Bertolt felt himself relaxing the farther he got from Erwin, and even guiltier because of it. They were just friends. He cursed his mind for thinking so fast, so erratically. Perhaps Erwin was right about the detective job. It was starting to infect his mind.

            "Here." Levi handed over a small thick book to Erwin.

            "You didn't even wrap it." Hanji remarked.

            "Wouldn't want Erwin to hurt his old man hands." Levi replied. Erwin scowled at him before just smiling a bit at the joke. Bertolt felt his nails digging into his thighs as he tried to keep his hands flat on his lap.

            "Thanks Levi." Erwin replied, looking over the book, he seemed a little intrigued by it. "This is the book to that movie that came out, isn't it? The one about the mafia."

            "I figured since you don't do movies you'd like just like the book." Levi replied, he ran his fingers through his hair for a bit. "If you don't want it just return it when I'm not looking."

            "Of course I want it." Erwin set the book on the table looking to Levi. "Bertolt doesn't really like most new cinema things. So I try not to get into it too much."

            Bertolt twitched hearing his name being used. Well if it was such a burden why didn't he go to the cinema by himself? Bertolt felt sweat beading on his forehead as the thought suddenly burst into his head. Why did that feel so angry? It was true wasn't it? Bertolt found himself arguing his own thoughts. Erwin was right on all accounts that Bertolt didn't really like the cinema anymore, he preferred old silent films, and certain fifties movies he couldn't help remembering from his childhood. Yet he didn't like when Erwin put it that way. As if Bertolt was holding him back somehow.

            "You like fifties films right?" Bertolt tried not to flinch when he realised Levi was talking to him.

            "Oh... uh, yes. I like certain fifties films, but I like tons of other things too." Bertolt felt he had played that a little defensively. Levi didn't seem to notice, though Bertolt's tone had shifted him away from trying to converse in depth.

            "I just remember Erwin saying something about it." Levi turned back to Erwin, he nodded his head a bit as if to say he was done. Bertolt felt his hands clench to fists. Of course he would! Erwin was his boyfriend wasn't he? Why wouldn't he talk about him? Bertolt shook his head physically again, and this time Erwin caught it. Bertolt wanted something to be gone from his mind. Why couldn't he shake this away? Bertolt shook his head only slightly, and turned to Annie. She had a smug look on her face, watching him with a cigarette held loosely in her right hand.

            "Are you okay?" Erwin asked, reaching over to touch his shoulder.

            Bertolt very rarely had been asked this question. Usually because he was good at pretending he was okay. He knew he must've let something slip, some hint that he was irritated. He tried to think, and remembered he had shaken his head again. He looked down at his lap and blinked a few times. He usually was not confronted because of the general assumption that he looked like a peaceful man. So he pressed his lips together thinly, and decided to do what he always did upon being confronted.

            He said nothing, and nodded his head.

            "All right." Erwin replied, and  turned to the table.

            "Open my present!" Connie said holding one of the boxes up.

            "Connie be polite." Reiner scolded.

            "O-oh, sorry." Connie settled down a bit, but Erwin shook his head, only finding it amusing. Bertolt was starting to fade from the conversation. He just needed to think. He zoned off for a moment, thinking of why he was so upset. He had never been this way before, Erwin had promised that they would be in a monogamous relationship. Bertolt trusted Erwin, he had never done anything to sway his thoughts. Yet every single laugh and smile Erwin gave to Levi, it felt like it had been stolen somehow. It was just simple friendship wasn't it? Bertolt looked down at himself, breaking from his thoughts.

            Erwin had been asking him if he wanted to see other people. And Erwin had been feeling a bit lost in age. Maybe he needed someone who would understand him more? That would be the most sensible thing. Someone who understood him, had more time spent with him, had more in common. Bertolt considered how different Erwin was to him, all of the things that caused tension between them. Erwin was much more interested in things like guns and sports. That made sense of course, Bertolt had a sudden rush of pain to his chest. Had he really been holding back Erwin's desires all this time? Maybe Erwin would be better off with someone he had more in common with. Levi was a very dear friend, wasn't he? Bertolt didn't even know himself how long they had been friends. It would just be better to leave them be.

            "Um.. Excuse me." Bertolt finally got the courage to speak. "I'll.. I'll be in the kitchen. I'll go get the cake."

            "I can help." Hanji offered.

            "Oh... I can do it by myself." Bertolt stepped away from the table, trying to be fast, but not too obvious. He just wanted to leave Erwin time with his friends. Erwin seemed much happier with them anyway. Maybe he liked Hanji too? Bertolt wasn't sure he knew anything about Erwin's friends. He had never spent quality time with them, though maybe Erwin wanted it that way. As Bertolt found himself in the kitchen he started to clean quietly, trying not to distract to others while Erwin opened his presents.

            Bertolt looked into the sink for a moment, glad to have a wall separating him from the party. He felt a pain spreading in his stomach like a sickness, and he shook his head violently again, before he realised he was getting a little dizzy from it. Bertolt didn't know why he still shook his head to get rid of thoughts. It never worked, it was just a tic. No matter what, the thoughts he wanted to go away the most were always the ones that never left him.

            Amidst drowning in his thoughts Bertolt felt a tap on his shoulder and he jumped slightly, looking to the source. Hanji's eyes opened wide which looked even odder with her glasses on.

            "Are you okay?" she stepped back, examining Bertolt a little bit.

            "I'm good." Bertolt lied. "Just... dozed off."

            "Oh... Um, where is the bathroom?" Hanji shifted back, looking up to him hesitantly. Bertolt nodded his head and lead her to the hallway. "Down there, last door on the left."

            "Thank you." Hanji replied, stepping down the hallway. She stopped for a moment, looking to Bertolt and smiled.

            "Don't worry Bertolt. We'll be done harassing you both soon enough okay?" Hanji flashed a smile before disappearing down the hallway. Bertolt blinked a few times, watching her with a confused look on his face before he continued on with preparing the cake. Bertolt took her words into consideration for a moment. Perhaps he was being too harsh on his own lover? It was his birthday, and he couldn't handle Erwin getting so much attention? Bertolt sighed softly, and ran his fingers through his hair.

            "Shut up..." He mumbled aloud, wishing his brain knew how to listen.

            Bertolt placed the cake on an even platter. It was a simple cake with white icing and strawberries. He knew Erwin wouldn't like anything flashy and colourful, and Bertolt would have been put off by that as well. Bertolt flinched as he heard Connie exclaim. He was at first on high alert before he realised Connie had just exclaimed "No way!". Bertolt quickly looked back inside to see Annie had given over her present to Erwin. Even Erwin looked a littler bewildered and Bertolt stepped back in the room so he could see. Annie had handed over a black and gold wristwatch.

            "Aren't those like thousands of bucks!?" Connie asked, leaning in to look at it.

            "This is very kind of you Annie... but this is too much, don't you think?" Erwin asked, raising his brow at the woman. Annie just gave him a fake smile and shrugged her shoulders.

            "It's a special occasion don't you think? Birthdays only come once a year." Annie replied calmly. "It's a gift, don't worry about the prices."

            "Still-" Erwin tried to persuade.

            "Just say thank you." Annie interjected.

            Erwin looked a little confused and Bertolt hesitated. Annie was in a mood where he was not sure how she would start behaving next. She could continue to fake sweetness, or let her actual frame of mind show. Bertolt sighed, hoping for the former.

            "Thank you." Erwin replied, pulling the watch out of the box. "I do appreciate it."

            "There, that wasn't so bad." Annie replied. "That's all I wanted."

            "Are we having cake?" Bertolt jumped as a voice came from behind him Hanji stepped in, looking to Bertolt with a soft smile. "I think we should have cake."

            "Sounds like a good idea." Annie added, sitting back in her chair as she started to light another cigarette.

            Bertolt felt the need to serve the cake and started slicing it at the table, giving everyone an individual slice. Hanji initiated in singing 'happy birthday' thought Levi and Annie seemed to want nothing to do with it. Erwin looked a bit embarrassed, and Bertolt decided to sit next to him, looking over his lover for a moment, just to appreciate him. He felt as if the whole night had suddenly turned sour for him, but he didn't want Erwin to notice it. Bertolt felt the desire to keep Levi away, but he couldn't stop the other from sitting on the opposing side of Erwin.

            Erwin continued to talk to Levi, and Bertolt decided to leave it be. He knew he shouldn't try to do anything to get in-between them if they wanted to talk. He looked down at Erwin's sleek black and gold Rolex and turned to Annie.

            "Please tell me that didn't come out of my pay check." Bertolt mumbled.

            "Not for this month." Annie replied, puffing her cigarette as she ate her cake.

            "Annie..." Bertolt mumbled.

            "You can't take a joke..." Annie huffed, and looked over Bertolt for a few seconds before shaking her head. "No need to be so sour you know. You look so unhappy. People change and drift away... We can't help that can we?" Bertolt had the slightest feeling that she was taunting him, though he could see her gaze landing on Levi, and Bertolt wished he hadn't followed her eyes. Levi was wiping Erwin's face with a napkin, much to Erwin's dismay.

            "I'm not a child." Erwin remarked. Levi only lowered his eyes a bit.

            "You were dirty. I can't help it if you need an adult." Levi replied, setting the napkin down on the table.

            "Drifting is a part of life, we can only pretend to be anchored for so long." Annie brings the cigarette to her lips and shuts her mouth for a second before exhaling the dark grey smoke. The way the smoke drifts to the ceiling and catches the light looks almost like a mirage, and as quickly as it appeared, it was gone.

* * *

 

            Levi was the first to arrive, and the first to leave. And soon everyone eventually departed into the night. Bertolt could breathe a sigh of relief once everything was said and done. He had done a small bit of work in the kitchen earlier, but he knew that there was still much more to do. He mulled through his thoughts, and continued cleaning the dishes until he could feel Erwin's arms wrapping around his waist. Bertolt blinked a few times, and decided not to lean back.

            "Thank you for that. It was nice." Erwin mumbled softly, keeping his face pressed to Bertolt's shoulder blade.

            "Good." Bertolt replied quietly, and continued to scrub down some of the dishes. "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself."

            "I haven't had a party in a while." Erwin continued, slowly resting his hands on Bertolt's hipbones. "I just thought that you didn't like them. I know social gathering aren't really your favourite thing."

            "Maybe you should go to more with your friends." Bertolt replied, setting the plates into the dish drain. "I don't want to hold you back."

            "You never hold me back." Erwin replied, pressing his thumbs into Bertolt's lower back. He started to massage, though Bertolt pulled away gradually.

            "That's not what you seemed to tell Levi." Bertolt could feel his words starting to seethe from his mouth. The corner of his mouth twitched and he kept his eyes looking down at the dishes.

            "Wh-what?" Erwin seemed genuinely confused, and backed off of Bertolt a bit more. Bertolt scowled down at the dishes, deciding not to respond before he snapped again. He took a deep breath, and shook his head. Erwin found this to be a bit more concerning.

            "Bertolt, what are you saying?" Erwin asked, stepping to his side so he could see Bertolt's face. He could see his grimace, and backed off as soon as he did.

            "I don't know. I just end up holding you back from things you like. Maybe you ought to find someone who doesn't do that to you." Bertolt scowled, and turned his head away from Erwin. The other blinked, staring at Bertolt for a few moments before he reached over, brushing his shoulder.

            "Bertolt... what is that supposed to mean?" Erwin only found himself getting more and more confused. The taller man had almost never used such a tone with him, with anyone. Bertolt just seemed to shy away from all his touches, and he scowled more, though he seemed to be trying to stop. Bertolt just felt the corner of his mouth twitching.

            "Well, I just don't want you to regret us being together. Maybe you'd like someone more your age." Bertolt remarked, feeling his bitterness grow a bit. "Levi seems much more your type don't you think?"

            Erwin made a noise nearly equivalent to choking. Bertolt realised it was a laugh, and felt his bitterness swell just a bit more. Erwin looked at him with an expression of laughter.

            "Who told you that?" he asked incredulously, and leaned over the counter.

            "Well, Annie couldn't help noticing how close you two sit." Bertolt turned his neck a bit, his voice was weak as he explained his case. "And how much he touches you, and laughs with you."

            "Touches? W-wh- Levi?" Erwin stuttered out, and Bertolt folded his arms when he heard Erwin starting to chuckle a little bit more. "Maybe she needs to sharpen her detective skills." Bertolt glared a bit as Erwin joked. Annie had never been wrong so far, so what good did Erwin have to say on that topic? Erwin could see Bertolt giving a negative reaction, and he leaned back.

            "Exactly what did Annie say?" Erwin asked, folding his arms.

            "That I have competition." Bertolt scoffed, the words were like poison to him.

            "She said you have competition with Levi?" Erwin asked, raising his brow.

            "She said I had competition, that's all. She just gestured to him a lot. She didn't say anything about him touching you, or wiping your face, or joking with you."

            "Wipe my face?.." Erwin shook his head for a moment and couldn't fight the soft laugh that came to him. Bertolt only looked at him in irritation, and continued to scrub at the dishes and utensils aggressively. Erwin reached over to Bertolt and gently ran his hand over his shoulder.

            "Look, I know Annie is a detective and all, but Levi is not like that. Not with me..." Erwin shook his head again as if he just didn't believe it. "I've known him since I was in the military. I know I don't talk about my past a lot, but I think I should. I was a lot to him. He saved my life, that's why I have that scar on my shoulder blade. When I went to the military I didn't expect to come back to my hometown unless I was in a box. I was ready to die, even if I barely knew the reason. Levi wasn't very sympathetic to me, and it took me getting a bullet in my shoulder to make me realise that I really like living. So you're right, Levi means a lot to me. He's one of the few friends in my life that has never judged my decisions."

            Bertolt listened silently, feeling a mixture of guilt and shame for how naive he had been acting. He looked down at his feet, clutching his right elbow and squeezing it tightly, his fingernails digging through his shirt fabric. Erwin looked over Bertolt, and gently reach out to his hand, holding it firmly.

            "And you know what I ended up being for him?" Erwin asked, tilting his head. Bertolt shook his head, he knew better than to start letting his mind wander now. Erwin leaned in and looked over his lover's face, speaking calmly.

            "I was his best man at his wedding."

            Bertolt felt his cheeks flush red as soon as he processed what Erwin had said. Erwin nodded his head firmly and ran his hands over Bertolt's. Bertolt had such soft and warm hands, still slightly damp from washing dishes.

            "Really?" Bertolt was able to squeak out.

            "Levi got married several years ago. And he'd never cheat on his wife. Hell, I never knew he could even like someone. They have children too. He's my closest friend, but we could never be that close. I don't think Levi had ever been gay, trust me, I tried to check once..." Erwin started to trail off but he quickly shook his head. "Petra is his core, the only person he'd ever want to be with. It's the same way I feel about you."

            Bertolt felt his face flush redder with embarrassment. Erwin only chuckled again and hugged Bertolt close to him, and reaching up to run his fingers through his brunette hair. Bertolt leaned down, he wanted to hide for a moment and cry out of relief. He never thought he would ever become as bitter as he was. He also realised it wasn't shame gripping his chest, it was fear, and for the moment, he felt his eyes water up.

            "I'm sorry..." Bertolt breathed out.

            "Don't be. I'm almost... glad. I suppose." Erwin rested his head against Bertolt, continuing to run his fingers through his hair. "I'm glad you cared. But not if it's going to make you panic like this. Come here." Erwin held him close and the two slowly stalked back into the bedroom, collapsing on the bed. Erwin always liked to cuddle on the bed, it was easier to get Bertolt up against his chest. Bertolt felt a few tears escape his eyes, and he settled down a little bit once Erwin had begun to cuddle him, shushing him and telling him not to cry. Bertolt sniffled a bit, trying to stop feeling so sorry for himself, and wrapped his arms around Erwin, hooking under his arms, and pressing his hands to his shoulder blades, a familiar position.

            "I'd never leave you, I promise." Erwin mumbled gently against his ear, kissing his cheek softly and drifting down towards his neck. "You're my everything... You mean everything to me. I would never do anything to hurt you." Bertolt gasped a little as Erwin's hands reached down and began to pull his shirt off, examining his tanned skin. Erwin leaned over and kissed him softly against the throat, kissing over his chest and sighed softly.

            "Nothing will bring us apart." he whispered, pulling Bertolt into a heated kiss. Nothing was left to say, except for moans and silent promises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have any questions or comments or even prompts find me on tumblr, username arcadia-mahler


	3. Sickness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes the past can be an illness instead of a memory.

Bertolt awoke by way of a ringing telephone. Gathering his thoughts about himself, he found himself a tangled mess of limbs and warmth as he felt Erwin laying on top of him. A hazy memory of being encompassed in sweat and sex came to him, and he groaned softly, shifting his position so he did his best not to disturb Erwin. His slender arm reached out for the corded phone, and yanked it off the receiver so the noise would cease.

            "Hello?" Bertolt mumbled sleepily into the phone.

            "Get your naked butt out of bed and come to the office." Annie's voice rung through. Bertolt felt himself raise out of the bed, revealing all the marks and bites that had appeared over the course of last night.

            "How'd you know I was naked?" Bertolt asked sleepily, yawning as he started to stretch, holding the phone to his ear with his chin and shoulder.

            "I can hear it." Annie remarked. "Now get up, a murder just sprang up. We gotta go check it out."

            "Do you really need me to be there?" Bertolt replied, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, wishing to wrap himself around Erwin and stay there.

            "If you want to get paid." Annie snapped. "Now get moving." she added and hung up the phone quickly. Bertolt scratched his head a bit, feeling how messy his hair was.

            "You barely pay me anyway..." Bertolt grumbled to nobody, and set the phone back on its holder. Bertolt ran his hands over Erwin's back, the man stirring at his touch.

            "Hey... wake up. We got to go to work..." Bertolt mumbled quietly. Erwin groaned softly, and slowly edged his way up to kiss Bertolt on the chest. Bertolt let his fingers tangle in Erwin's messy hair, and he looked down at themselves. Last night's activities had left both of them a sweating panting mess and exhausted for the new day. Bertolt swore by the time they were done streaks of sunlight had begun to peek through the window, and they had almost no sleep.

            "Come on Erwin... It's eight o'clock." Bertolt grumbled and slowly slid out of bed, leaning on it heavily. He reached out, pulling Erwin's arm while trying to maintain his balance. "Come on, let's cleanup..."

            Erwin seemed less than pleased and slowly pulled himself out of bed. He shifted around for a bit and slowly clambered over to Bertolt. The two were bare of any clothing and Bertolt sighed softly, feeling the warmth of their skin pressing together.

            "I have second shift Bertolt..." Erwin grumbled. "I don't start until three..."

            "I know, just shower with me okay? You need to shave at least..." Bertolt mumbled, and began to lead Erwin to the bathroom connected to their room. Erwin groaned a bit, and Bertolt kissed his forehead before reaching out to turn the shower on. He set it on a dizzyingly hot temperature, and waited for the steam to appear before he stepped in, beckoning Erwin. The shower was a small stall and Erwin was always pressed up to Bertolt's chest. It was difficult to share the showerhead since it was placed up to the back of Bertolt's head, and he usually blocked a good amount of it. The taller man had to slouch a bit if he wanted to rinse the top of his head, which was always a bit amusing to Erwin. The two were silent through most of the washing and scrubbing, taking turns to stand under the spray of water. Bertolt kept his hands wrapped around Erwin, still kissing his shoulders, his mind still heavy with last night's activities.

            Eventually the two dried each other off and stumbled back into the bedroom to change into their respective clothing. Bertolt adjusted his turtleneck sweater, feeling how cold the room had become after their exit. October's cold chill had quickly taken any warmth from the apartment. Bertolt pulled on his trench coat that only fell to his knees, as well as dark black jeans. If it wasn't for his height, he would be nothing to look at twice. A dark outfit with no defining features and dark green eyes with brunette hair. Erwin slipped on his own clothing, deciding to wait until he had to leave to put on any of his uniform. He walked back to the bathroom, deciding to shave of his beard finally, and by the time he finished shaving, Bertolt was fully dressed and groomed through his hair.

            "Goodbye. It's been a while since a murder case has sprung up, so I hope it doesn't take too long." Bertolt mumbled as he kissed Erwin's now smooth face before kissing his lips. Erwin sighed softly, and hugged him for a moment before letting go and settling back on the bed.

            "I'll call you at two thirty if I'm still out working." Bertolt remarked, seeing the man still tired. "You get some rest."

            "Mhn.." Erwin mumbled, and settled back into the bed sheets. "Stay safe."

            "I will." Bertolt replied, but Erwin was nearly asleep when he said so.

* * *

 

            When Bertolt first gazed upon the corpse, the body was too mangled and twisted to be identified at first. Blood was shot everywhere, the alleyway had been given a grotesque paintjob of thick rotting red liquid. The chest was cut from the neck, all the way down to the side of the ribcage, the skin peeled back like some sort of malformed tippet. The arms had been severed off and discarded to the side, as well as the feet. The ribs were cracked open, and the heart removedAnd the corpses right hand, which had been set in front of the bodies severed leg, held its rotten dead heart.

            "It's definitely dead." came a soft voice, followed by the echo of a camera shutter.

            "Shut up Armin." Annie immediately spoke, and Bertolt turned around to face his two employers. Armin Arlert had always been there for photography and comparison. He was also their lawyer and legal advisor. Annie's work always did seem out of place and Bertolt was glad to have Armin around to set things straight for him. Armin over time had become a good friend, though he had more hobbies and likes that Bertolt was not too fond of. Regardless, Armin was also the only person who was slightly more logical to most of Annie's creative work. Bertolt valued their trio, though he still wondered what brought Annie and Armin to approach him.

            "It's disgusting." Bertolt felt his remark appear before he could think it through. The sight had turned his stomach, and he knew he'd probably have another lunch-less day.

            "Doesn't matter." Annie replied. "Police information. Noise complain call last night turned into a homicide case. Around 4:00 am late in the morning a call came in about screaming down in the alleyways. Our dear friend here was doing god-knows-what when the a murderer appeared and decided to do his dirty work. That's what I've had to piece together so far..." Bertolt nodded at Annie's notes, knowing she had probably approached the police for the small bits of information. Still the acrid smell of blood makes Bertolt want to puke, but he knew they were going to be here for quite some time.

            "Victim has been identified as Judge Nicholas. He lives in up towards Stohess Boulevard. So anyone have an indication as to why he's down in these slums?" Annie seemed to be asking everyone, her voice rising. The cops and other crime scene investigators looked at her stumped, some didn't even pay attention to her words.

            "He was taken here?" Armin asked, kneeling down to take another photograph. "Assailant took him for a ride. Or knocked him out maybe and dragged him out here?"

            "Perhaps." Annie replied. "Bertolt?"

            Bertolt craned his neck a bit at the body, staring down at the body and started to look at any defining features. The body was placed visibly at the end of the alleyway so whoever dared walk down the street would have a good look at it. The sun had rotted away at the man's face, as well as his open chest. Flies had already started to burrow eggs in the dead flesh. Bertolt shook his head a bit, trying to clear it and think of what would have happened.

            "Bruises on his wrists." Bertolt remarked. "He was tied up. Ankles too... wherever the other ankle is." Bertolt pointed out one of the man's severed feet that had a sickly purple bruise formed on the ankles. "He was tied up... The assailant tied him up and took him out here. And then he cut off his arms and legs. The man was still alive when he started breaking his ribs open, but he was already dead by the time the heart was removed. If he wasn't... he was in a lot of pain."

            "Good." Annie complimented. "But he obviously in a lot of pain once his arms and legs were cut off."

            "I know... I meant that... whoever did this wanted him to be in a lot of pain..." Bertolt explained. "Someone with a grudge on him."

            "Could be hundreds of people. Judge Nicholas has been working for nearly forty years. Tons of people have a grudge against him." Armin huffed and started to inch forward, snapping pictures of his face, and his severed limbs.

            "To this degree?" Bertolt questioned, surprised at how close Armin was getting.

            "Never doubt anger Bertolt, it's one of many emotions that will make you do anything." Annie remarked, turning her head. "Like jealousy, perhaps?"

            Bertolt twitched as his mind raced and finally connected the meaning of her words. He spun around to face her, folding his arms. Annie raised her brow at him, finding his disgruntled expression slightly amusing.

            "I can't believe you strung me along last night. You actually made me believe that Erwin would leave me." Bertolt hissed his frustrations in a dangerously low voice. "Levi isn't even gay."

            Annie scoffed. "I knew that, you could tell by his necktie."

            "Gay people wear neckties." Bertolt argued. Annie rolled her eyes, stepping back.

            "No idiot. You need to look better. His necktie was made up too nicely. Windsor knot, simple one. It was done up in front of him, like someone else did it for him. Someone with tiny woman hands." Annie explained, gesturing to her own neck. "That and he had an indent on the lower part of his left ring finger, meaning he wore a ring for a long time, meaning he took it off recently, meaning he was probably divorced, but seeing as he works for the police he probably took it off so it didn't get stolen."

            "So you knew the whole damn time huh?" Bertolt remarked. "I was actually afraid of what you said you know. I almost cried last night."

            "I know. It was kind of pathetic." Annie agreed. "I haven't trained you well enough. If I had taught you better you would have figured these things out on your own. You stop worrying about stupid things once you learn to analyze the situation a bit better."

            "Maybe you should stop overanalyzing the living." Bertolt replied, squeezing his hands over his folded arms.

            "Maybe you should be overanalyzing more than the dead." Annie shot back, and folded her arms in the same respect.

            "Calling card." Armin's words broke the two's argument, and Bertolt stepped away from Annie first, approaching the body. Armin pointed to the man's severed right hand, where his heart was. Under the heart Bertolt could now see a small flat piece of paper, or a card. Armin pointed at it, but refused to get closer than he was.

            "I'll get it." Bertolt huffed, and started to pull on his white elastic gloves. He reached out, pushing the heart into the man's lap, and lifted the card. It was covered in blood and bone chips and he quickly wiped it to see what was on it.

            It was a card with a drawing of a man in rich red robes. He wore a crown and in one hand was a Libra scale, while in the other a long sword held upright to the sky. On the bottom was the roman numeral XI. Eleven, and the word 'JUSTICE .' in bold lettering.

            "It's a tarot card." Armin remarked. "Number eleven of the Major Arcana. Justice. It represents impartiality and coldness."

            "Great. So the guy is just a symbolic asshole." Annie huffed, kicking the ground with disappointment. "I hate looking for nutcases. Why can't murderers just be normal guys? It'd be so much easier." Bertolt rolled his eyes as Annie started to whine. Armin only smirked a bit and pulled out  plastic bag for Bertolt to place the card in. He stood up looking down at the body. Whoever had done this definitely had a poetic definition of justice. Bertolt had no idea what it was, but a sudden rush had overcome him. A sense of fear stuck to the nape of his neck and he stepped away from the body, getting a better look at it from a distance.

            "This... happened before didn't it?" Bertolt asked and turned his head.

            "People leaving tarot cards at crime scenes? Dozens of times. That isn't anything original, it's just someone who wants to prove they're being symbolic." Annie explained, now looking over the card herself.

            "No... I mean, someone murdering another person and leaving a tarot card... here. In this place. Didn't a murder similar to this one happen not too long ago?" he responded, and looked around at the severed limbs.

            "The Chariot case?" Armin asked turning to Bertolt. "That was kind of like this. Severed limbs and ripped out organs... That one had the seventh tarot card. The Chariot. It was in the victims intestines."

            "The Chariot represents pride doesn't it?" Annie remarked.

            "Well all of them are left to interpretation. The Chariot could be pride or anxiety or honour. It could even mean bravery." Armin remarked, brushing his hand through his hair. "The victim of that case had just graduated high school though. He was the valedictorian, and had a full scholarship to a doctor college. I don't see the connection other than the tarot cards..."

            "You're not supposed to." Annie sighed, pulling out a cigarette. Bertolt knew she would start to smoke when she was over-thinking something. He never knew if that worked or not, but he did not argue with Annie's methods. She stared at the body, grey smoke drifting in the air. Annie is silent for a few moments and Armin and Bertolt assume she is done speaking.

            "I wonder if the assailant really is the same person from all those years ago..." Armin remarked, and stepped away from the body.

            "No." Annie counters. "He has never been the same person."

* * *

            A terrible fear overcame Bertolt as he sat in his car all alone. He had long since departed the crime scene and was now sitting in a parking stall far from the scene, trying not to look too odd. He was still shaken by what he had seen. It was not the grotesque form, or the odd symbolism, but the familiarity of it. This had been in his mind before. This had happened before. Severed limbs and ripped out organs. Yet that was not the fear that struck him, in that time Bertolt remembered well, a tragedy to befall his old high school. A recent graduate with a full scholarship and a bright future had been violently murdered in an alleyway. That had been one of the things that got Bertolt interested in forensics and eventually detective works. But this was not the Chariot case. This was a time long before then.

            No, this memory pierced his head like a nail and struck his very core. Sunlight smote his eyes and wind shook him to his bones. He could remember his mothers comfort, tears in his eyes, and a body sitting in the snow, violently ripped apart limbs splayed everywhere. It looked like a wild animal had ripped him apart. Bertolt tried to remember that thought, but he could not. His heart began to beat, his chest heaved. His head got dizzy. What was this taste? He felt like blood was filling his mouth, and he coughed violently. Nothing came out. And suddenly his mouth felt dry. He leaned back in his seat to realise he was sweating badly, his skin stuck to his shirt and his hair already damp. What was this memory? Why couldn't it come forward?  Why did it hide this way? Bertolt could see it, a body, snow mixed with fresh blood, a small child, and fear gripping his spine and freezing him like a block of ice.

            It was like a reflection in the water.

             Physical, reachable, but never to be obtainable.

* * *

            Erwin felt a sudden rush of cold air greet him at the doorway as he stepped into his apartment.

            This was his first inclination that something was wrong.

            Bertolt always kept the apartment warm throughout the night for comfort, and the scent of dinner always clung to the air. Usually dinner would be wrapped up on the table, and if Bertolt wasn't asleep, he was musing in a book or watching an old movie. Erwin retired his belongings to the table and looked around for his lover. After quickly checking the couch he walked into the bedroom, where he was greeted with another cold blast of wind.

            The heavy curtains fluttered in the strength of the October night winds, and a chill ran up Erwin's spine. Bertolt was laying on top of the sheets, his clothing had been thrown onto the ground carelessly, and he wore nothing but his boxers. His fingernails clawed at the pillow and his face was pressed into the sheets. He moaned painfully, his body was slick with sweat and tremors seized his body. Erwin sat on the bed and wrapped his hand around Bertolt, lifting him to his chest.

            "Bertolt sit up." Erwin ran his hand over the others forehead, and helped him try to sit up properly. "Come, sit up." he ordered again, hoping Bertolt would react.

            Bertolt's face was pale, and he twitched only slightly once Erwin placed contact on his forehead. Erwin shifted him around a bit. His breathing was fast and heavy and his heart felt like it would beat out of his chest.

            "You're freezing." Erwin mumbled, and lifted the man. "You need to put some clothes on."

            Bertolt tilted his head back and finally spoke.

            "It's so hot..." he grumbled, pushing away from Erwin slightly.

            "You're too cold Bertolt." Erwin replied. "Just sit up for now." he shifted Bertolt so his back was against the headrest of the bed. Erwin lifted a blanket over his body, trying to wrap it around him firmly. Bertolt slumped over, and pulled his arms over his chest, another tremor seized his body. Erwin shut the window as tightly as he could, and returned to his lover, who had already tried to kick the blankets off.

            "It's hot..." he whined again, and wrapped his arms around his head, pulling his knees up to his chest. Erwin leaned over, running his hands over Bertolt.

            "You're sweating too much Bertolt." Bertolt didn't seem to be listening, and as Erwin reached out he gently pried Bertolt's arms away so he could see his face. Bertolt's pale face was starting to flush a sickly green-pink colour. He shot off of the bed in one quick motion, Erwin looked at him, stunned for a moment at his speed, and watched him dash into the bathroom. Bertolt collapsed to his knees by the toilet, panting hard.

            Bertolt vomited, his body convulsing at his movements. His stomach retched out all its contents, all the bile in him. He vomited so hard he started to cry, feeling the sting in his throat. He panted for air once it was over, groaning and spitting the disgusting taste out of his mouth. He felt a hand run over his back soothing him for a moment, and he twitched to see Erwin.

            "Bertolt relax." Erwin spoke as he dabbed his chin with a towel. "You might have the flu." He observed, and began to help the man up. "Brush your teeth. I'll start a shower, you have to get warmer."

            Bertolt didn't want to get warmer, everything felt like it was burning, but he did as he was told. He slowly lifted himself from his knees with Erwin's help and leaned over on the counter. He blinked a few times, his vision failing him as he started to see spots and blackness in his vision. Miraculously finding his toothbrush, he covered it in mint paste and tried his best to scrub the gunk out of his mouth. A horrible acidic taste hit his throat and he gagged, spitting out the toothpaste. He scowled a bit, trying to do his best to clean his mouth. He could feel the coldness leaving the room, and steam starting to trail around the mirror. He turned to Erwin, sluggish as he walked forward, collapsing on his chest.

            "Let me bathe you. Just relax." Erwin responded and pulled Bertolt's boxers off quickly. He gave himself little time to undress, throwing his uniform down so Bertolt did not have to wait, and slowly brought the other in. Bertolt groaned at the feeling of warm water. It was only lukewarm, but Bertolt thought it felt like fire raining on his skin. He stumbled onto Erwin, his vision flooded with darkness as blood rushed to his head and he felt all the feeling in his legs give out.

            "Relax, relax." Erwin continued to say as he held Bertolt up, slowly setting him down on the floor of the shower. His long sinuous legs stuck out of the shower without his knees pressed to his chest. Erwin kneeled down and started to scrub Bertolt's legs quietly with a towel, trying to clean his sweat away. Bertolt groaned, hugging his chest and shying away from the water. He trembled again, seizing his body up.

            "I'm right here Bertolt. Does anything hurt?" Erwin asked, starting to clean his chest and arms. Bertolt shook his head and leaned back against the shower wall again.

            "It's hot..." he whined. "It's too hot..."

            "It's only lukewarm. Bertolt if you have a fever you can't cool down like this, it'll kill you." Erwin began to explain and slowly, and rubbed his back quietly as he cleaned him. "Just relax, I'll take care of you. Do you need to throw up again?"

            "No..." Bertolt moaned, shaking his head. "I can't..."

            "Have you thrown up already?" Erwin started to take his time as he wiped down his thighs and hips, cleaning around his groin. Bertolt fell back on the wall, nodding his head. "How many times?"

            Bertolt held up three of his fingers.

            "This was the fourth time?" Erwin asked. Bertolt shook his head as Erwin picked him up gingerly and starting to groom through his hair. "This was the third time then... You need to stay warm, even if you don't want to. It's going to make you worse if you stay cold. And you need to drink something. Stay hydrated. Especially if you're throwing up."

            "Mmhn..." Bertolt moaned, and turned his head. Erwin sighed softly, rinsing the man off, and stepped out, letting the water run over him. Erwin retrieved a few towels and turn the shower off. He slipped Bertolt out, and wrapped the towel around his damp body.

            "It's hot..." he repeated. Erwin nodded his head, rubbing the dry towel over his hair, and slowly down his neck. This treatment was slower and softer, Bertolt seemed to appreciate that just a bit more. He sighed, falling back on the tile floor and Erwin set the folded towel under his head to keep his head comfortable, and off the cold ground. Erwin struggled to lift the man, now that he had let his temperature rise he could now feel Bertolt's heat. His skin was burning, and he lifted him close to his chest, taking him to the bed and setting him down. Bertolt still whined and pulled the towels away as he was set down on the bed.

            "Keep the towels on, Bertolt." Erwin spoke, folding the towel back over him. Bertolt whined, but complied with Erwin and slid under the towel. Erwin stepped out, looking over him for a moment. "I'll get you some water to drink. And I'll make some soup."

            "Mhhn..." Bertolt whined, and placed his face into the towels.

            "I'll leave the window open a little if you stay under the sheets okay?" Erwin compromised, and Bertolt nodded his head, looking to Erwin helplessly. His face was flushed red and he looked miserable as Erwin stepped over to him. Erwin gently ran his fingers through his strands of damp hair, and leaned over, gently pressing his lips to Bertolt's heated forehead.

            "It's going to be okay. You just caught a bug." Erwin mumbled against the shell of his ear, and tucked the sheets over Bertolt. He slowly stood up and walked to the window, opening it a few inches to let the breeze drift through the curtains. He turned to Bertolt. His dark green eyes were shut, and his lips pursed tight. Erwin ran his fingers over his cheek, the cold rush of air drifted through the room. Bertolt sighed softly, his body relaxed, as well as the expression on his face.

            "I'll be right back." Erwin hummed. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to call. You're sick, so you need all the help you can get."

            "Mhhn..." Bertolt mumbled softly. "T-thanks..."

            "You're welcome." Erwin replied. He slowly exited out of the bedroom and looked around the kitchen. He opened the fridge door, examining what they had and started to pull out a few things before grabbing a glass water. He hated to see Bertolt aching in the heat, and filled the glass with ice and cold water. He returned to Bertolt, seeing him propped back against the headboard limply.

            "Sit up straight Bertolt." he said sweetly, and lifted him slowly. Bertolt blinked, his eyes were dull and tired. "Drink this slowly." Erwin lifted the glass to Bertolt, allowing him to wet his mouth with cold water. He shivered, and pushed the blankets off, trying to grip the cup with his own hands.

            "It's all right, I can hold it." Erwin reached out to pull Bertolt's hands away gingerly, lifting the glass a bit better. Bertolt leaned in, trying to tilt the glass until the water escaped the corners of his mouth and dripped down his chest. "Easy." Erwin attempted to correct his posture. Bertolt once again tried to reach out for the glass, gurgling a little bit into the water before pulling away and panting hard.

            "I can..." he coughed, reaching out for the glass. Erwin decided there was no need to argue, and placed the glass in Bertolt's hand. He drank the water hastily, but he was not spilling much more than a few drops. He gasped for air as he pulled the glass away and leaned back, groaning to himself, and taking another sip once he had caught his breath.

            "You drink all of it. I'll go make some soup." Erwin concluded and got up, leaving returning to the kitchen. There was scraps of chicken meat and fresh carrots and celery, Erwin quickly decided on a simple chicken soup. Despite the very few times in his life which he had become ill, almost all of them were violent strings of fevers or chills. Erwin had gotten many illnesses when he was still a younger militant cadet, and knew very well how he would wish to be treated.

            The soup was slow to boil and cook and Erwin took his time with it, trying not to rush too much. When it was a good temperature he poured out a bowl, carrying it to the room. He saw Bertolt had shuffled around until he was back laying down. His hand was outstretched over to the nightstand with the glass on the ground. Thankfully the carpet had softened the impact and nothing had cracked. Bertolt was asleep, a soft snore leaving his lips. He was usually a quiet sleeper and even in heavy fever he still was. Erwin set the soup on the nightstand and picked up the glass, noticing the carpet was not too damp except where the ice cubes had fallen. It was a good sign, he had drunk as much of the water as he could. Bertolt was exhausted, the sickness was taking its toll. Erwin gently lay his hand on his forehead to feel that Bertolt was sweating heavily once again. He took one of the cleaner towels and started to dab at his head. Slipping away again Erwin covered a fresh towel in cold water and laid it on Bertolt's forehead, hoping his head was not too affected by the fever. Bertolt let out a soft grumble in response, snoring right after.

            Erwin decided against waking him. He left the soup untouched and climbed into bed slowly, lifting Bertolt's head against his lap. He sat upright, lazily bringing his fingers through Bertolt's hair. Bertolt twitched and relaxed, his breathing was fast and shallow still. His heartbeat was erratic and Erwin was very careful to hold him and move him around. He felt fragile, like a feather, and trembled at every touch. Erwin dimmed the light just catching sight of the time. It had just become three thirty in the morning. The large winds that blew through the small crack in the window made him shiver slightly. The sky was a dark inky black, spots of stars were drowned in the orange streetlights. People who still stayed awake at such an ungodly hour dashed to and fro from the source of light as if they were shaky photographs. Work had taken his toll on him, a ten hour shift had turned into a twelve hour shift. Erwin sighed softly, lowering his head to look to the infirmed Bertolt. Erwin once again found himself in a deep need for rest, and an inability to sleep.

* * *

            Bertolt had slept through two days with no recollection of them. When he had finally come to his senses he found himself sprawled under the covers of the bed, completely naked. Erwin was combing through his hair with his fingers, and he brought his chin atop the man's muscular thigh to get his attention.

            "Mornin..." Bertolt mused as Erwin continued to stroke through his hair.

            "Afternoon." Erwin replied, his hand running down his cheek to touch his chin ever so softly. Bertolt lifted his head, groaning a bit, and twisted his body around, feeling his sharp hipbones were bare as well. Not even a trace of underwear. He curled up, grabbing the blanket and instinctively covered his body all the way to his shoulders.

            "Is it really afternoon?" Bertolt asked, feeling a sudden twinge in his muscles once he had been brought to life.

            "Thursday afternoon." Erwin added, and got up to pull the curtains back. It was raining quietly, the windows were frosted with fog and droplets of rain stuck to the outer panes. The city was covered in grey light, reflected brightly in the dirty puddles below.

            "Thursday?" Bertolt rose his head, his body had a twinge of pain as he felt his hips aching slightly. He curled the duvet around himself, and tried to sit on the side that ached less. "Ow... My butt hurts." he mumbled, rubbing his aching backside. Erwin turned his head and sat down by the other man, placing the back of his hand on Bertolt's forehead.

            "Your fever finally came down." he huffed as he pulled Bertolt close. Bertolt coughed a bit, starting to be more awaken to his body. His throat ached and felt dry, he realised his voice had gotten a bit scratchier and he climbed atop Erwin's chest weakly, lifting his buttocks up a bit. Erwin gingerly ran his fingers down his sides, running them over Bertolt's hipbones and down his thighs. "The doctor gave you a shot. It was for a large muscle so.." Erwin gently pressed against Bertolt's behind until the man flinched away. "Sorry. The doctor said you had a pretty bad flu virus. You could barely speak when he came over, but you did okay."

            "There was a doctor...?" Bertolt mumbled, his head was cradled against Erwin's shoulder and neck, and the man continued to hold him in the position until Bertolt decided to change it.

            "Yes... I had a feeling you wouldn't remember." Erwin responded. He shifted Bertolt down a bit and lifted his head. "You got really weak. You didn't even move from the bed, and you threw up five times."

            "Five times...?" Bertolt touched his stomach, now feeling like it was incredibly empty. He coughed against the bed, trying to turn away from Erwin as quickly as possible.

            "You threw up twice before I got home, once when I was home, and twice in the bed." Bertolt felt his ears turn red at the thought of throwing up in the bed. He had pieced together the first time he had vomited was in the sink, and he was able to wash it away before anyone saw what he had done. The other times were nothing but hazes. He looked down at the bed to see that the sheets had definitely been changed. He coughed, sniffling up the mucus he felt coming forward.

            "I'm sorry..." Bertolt mumbled, covering his face. "Why am I naked?"

            "You complained about the heat. Your fever was killing you. I didn't try to force any clothes on you other than socks and underwear but you kicked them off." Bertolt felt he could remember that for some reason and immediately looked to Erwin, the man had a slight purplish bruise on his chin and his face flushed redder with embarrassment.

            "I kicked you in the face didn't I?" Bertolt mumbled shifting towards the man a bit. Erwin gave a nod of his head, only producing a smile.

            "It's okay. I wasn't really expecting it, but you didn't kick me hard." Erwin replied. "I'm just glad that you're okay now. I was thinking it was kind of ironic though. That I was the one worried about dying and you go and get the flu." Erwin continued to comb through Bertolt's hair, his eyes trailing over Bertolt's body. "For a moment I thought you weren't going to make it. You wouldn't even open your eyes."

            "I'm sorry..." Bertolt whispered.

            "It's not your fault. I'm just glad I thought about this a little bit more." Erwin explained. "There's still a lot I want to do. And I want you to be there. I realise I need to stop feeling sorry for myself. So I should be the one apologizing..."

            "Don't... I know I wouldn't understand... I'm trying to. I should thank you though... I'm not easy to take care of when I'm sick." Bertolt leaned over, pressing his lips to Erwin's neck, and wrapping his arms around the other. Erwin gripped his sides, feeling how much skinner Bertolt had gotten in such a short amount of time. Erwin kissed down Bertolt's throat, and against his cheek. He slid his hands up his shoulders, and squeezed softly, trying to massage his aching muscles. Bertolt groaned softly, dropping his head down. Erwin kissed down his cheek, against his nose. Bertolt shied away, starting to sit up.

            "M-mhn.. No, no... I don't want you to get sick..." Bertolt mumbled. "Not now..." Erwin leaned in and kissed him softly on the neck, his teeth pressing to his skin and scraping his collarbone. Erwin held Bertolt up behind his shoulder blades, sighing softly against his skin.

            "Everywhere but the mouth then." Erwin replied, and trailed down Bertolt's chest, kissing at his center and moving towards one of his nipples, playing with it for a moment. Bertolt groaned, grabbing a fistful of Erwin's hair, and falling back into the bed. Erwin smiled, nipping and sucking all over Bertolt's skin. Little reddish pink marks were left all over his chest and body. Bertolt groaned as his cock twitched at the sensation. Erwin continued downward, running his hands over Bertolt's thin hipbones and down to hook under his knees, spreading his legs apart.

            "Erwin..." Bertolt shivered, feeling the man slowly trailing his hot tongue over his inner thigh and blowing to make it cool. He groaned, his body shuddered under Erwin's treatment and he slowly dropped back, covering his face with a pillow. Erwin got closer and closer, his tongue teasing and dipping against his skin. His teeth scraping the sensitive flesh of Bertolt's inner thigh. The other shuddered, spreading his legs more for Erwin, he had already started panting.

            The phone began to ring.

            "Ugh.." Bertolt screeched through the pillow in annoyance. "Not now..."

            "I'll get it." Erwin responded, and leaned over, picking the phone up and resting it on his shoulder. Bertolt looked a little sore, and removed the pillow from his face. Erwin ran his fingers over his cheek, turning his head.

            "Hello?" he asked in a completely different tone. A very sarcastically sweet voice came through.

            "Helloo." responded a female voice. "Can I speak to the currently naked man of the house?"

            "It really bothers me when you do that." Erwin mumbled under his breath. "I feel like you have cameras on us."

            "I don't need camera's when I can hear it in your voice." Annie replied. "Something came up. And judging by the tone Bertl isn't dead from the flu so put him on the phone."

            "It's Annie." Erwin explained, looking to his lover. Bertolt frowned a bit, but offered his hand out to the phone. Erwin set the phone in his hand, sitting upright. Bertolt sighed, pressing the phone to his ear.

            "Yes?" Bertolt asked.

            "Oh, don't be that way." Annie remarked. "I couldn't have know you two were being intimate until you answered the phone." Bertolt felt himself grimacing, he wondered if Annie was lying and could just read minds, but that didn't seem to make sense. "Any who-" Annie continued. "Something came up. I need you to come down and get dressed. It might help us with that Judge Nicholas case. We found out more about the Chariot case as well. Do you remember it? Two years ago a student of Saint Maria high school was murdered. Valedictorian of the class. Your class to be exact huh?"

            Bertolt felt himself nodding in compliance. He did remember the case, it happened on his last year of high school, and the whole town echoed their shock upon finding the valedictorian horribly murdered and mutilated in the alleyway. Bertolt tried to stay away from it, though like anyone else, he wanted to know more, and differentiate between what had really happened and what was just a rumour. He had heard stories the body being ripped completely in half, but he had a feeling it was not that severe. He had even heard a ridiculous claim of the boy still being alive, and merely sustaining life threatening injuries that took the right side of his body. That too sounded like an idiotic claim, there would not be so much commotion about murder if he was alive.

            "Yeah, I remember." Bertolt mumbled, sniffling a few times so he sounded a little more orderly. "Not everything, but I remember."

            "Well I'll fill you in now. Class student Marco Bodt age eighteen. He was riding a full scholarship to one of the good colleges up in Sina. Half of his face was crushed in and his right arm was cut off, as well as some of his ribcage broken and removed. His intestines were all over the street and amongst it was the seventh tarot card, the Chariot. Representing energy and bravery. They say that Marco had a very positive energy and was a brave boy too. His passing shocked a lot of people." Annie explained. "Anyway, his parents refuse to speak of what happened, but he has a friend that is still alive that we have contacted. His name is Jean Kirschtein. He seemed a little willing to talk about what happened."

            "How will this help the Judge Nicholas case?" Bertolt asked, turning his head so the bones in his neck could pop.

            "It won't. Not a lot anyway. No one was convicted for the Chariot case though. It was a cold case within a month of it happening. If we can find out what happened to Marco Bodt maybe we can figure out this case. You might have been right, we could be looking at a serial killer."

            "What was the guys name again?" Bertolt asked, yawning a bit.

            "Jean Kirschtein." Annie huffed. "Do you remember him?"

            "Just that he was in my class... I think I had gym with him. I don't remember much of him though..."

            "He and Marco were planning to go to the same school, but he decided against it once Marco died." Annie explained. "He's volatile, so I don't recommend we pry too deep. We're lucky enough that he's willing to talk. He seemed much more interested in talking to you though, so we need you there."

            "All right... I get it. When do we go?" Bertolt sighed, sitting up in bed.

            "Now."

            "You're kidding, right? I'm still sick."

            "Now or never. Jean lives down in Trost."

            "That's an hour away." Bertolt huffed.

            "Yeah. Get ready for a roadtrip." Annie replied, and hung up on him as quickly as she could.

 


	4. The Man From Trost

Annie and Armin were already sitting outside of the apartment complex by the time Bertolt had changed into his clothing. Black turtleneck and dark jeans with a trench coat. He held his shoulder bag with on hand and a pillow with another. He sat in the backseat of Annie's burgundy Sedan Deville. The heater was blasting and the cab smelt thickly of smoke. Bertolt sighed, the car carried the same scent of Annie's office. Bertolt did not like the scent of either places. Though Armin seemed to have tried purging out the smell with pine scented air fresheners. It didn't help in the slightest.

            "It smells like a forest fire in here." Bertolt blurted out, still a little perturbed to have been ripped away from his lover. Armin shrugged his shoulders, holding a pile of paperwork to his chest.

            "It's not my fault." Armin replied. "Annie chain smokes when she's thinking."

            Bertolt placed the pillow on the seat, sitting down on it as comfortably as he could. It was still a bit painful to sit on where the doctor had injected him with medicine. From what he had learned it was nearly two days ago, but the soreness took a weak to fully go away. He sighed softly, his head brushing the top of the Sedan.

            "You can lay down if your ass is still hurting, that's why I left you the back seat." Annie explained, she was holding her almost burnt out cigarette to another. Bertolt coughed in reply and shifted around a bit.

            "How do you even know?" Bertolt asked, though he knew she would remark something about the way he was dressed, or how he opened the door or some nonsense.

            "Erwin told me." She replied, chucking the burnt out cigarette from the car and pushing the gear to drive. Armin shifted in his seat, his hair had been swept up in a ponytail, his bangs lazily falling over his forehead.

            "We've been trying to contact you a lot lately." Armin added, brushing his hair back a bit. "Erwin said you looked like you were about to die. He was really worried." Armin himself looked a little worried as he spoke, but nodded his head dismissively, turning to see Bertolt. He adjusted his seatbelt and smiled slightly. "I'm glad you're okay though. You looked really bad when we came to visit."

            "How much did I miss in two days?" Bertolt asked, his skin itched at the thought of being so ill he had forgotten the doctor that stabbed him in the ass with a needle, and his own boss visiting him.

            "Probably a lot. Whatever virus you picked up knocked you out for a good amount of time." Annie remarked, and started to drive. "Doesn't matter. If the weather permits, and there isn't much traffic, we should get to Trost in an hour and a half. Jean lives down in the lower avenue side. You two don't know much about it, so I'll help you out." The car drove smoothly, something Bertolt was surprised by. Annie never seemed to own anything that worked, she would keep something until it was old and broken and eventually useless. Even the office that they worked at was nothing short of a condemned building. The three headed out quickly, the town was quiet with afternoon rain blanketing the skies. Only when the car starts moving did the wind start to pick up, and the rain really started to pour. It was nice of it to wait like that, Bertolt thought to himself.

            "So what have you guys gathered without me?" Bertolt asked, leaning forward wincing at the pain in his behind.

            "Not shit." Annie huffed. "It's going to be a cold case again. Everybody is pointing fingers and nobody is guilty. We've got a few suspects, and not one damn eyewitness. Not even the damn caller came forward. People from Shiganshina real quite bastards." Annie twitched, turning the windshield wipers and looked to Armin. "Sorry, no offense. You know what I mean Armin."

            "It's okay. I know the people there like to keep their thoughts to themselves.. I've been bothered by it too. I have a feeling that whoever did it might have been very secretive, or just knew the right people.." Armin huffed a very vague answer. Shiganshina was a fairly rough side of town, and people always seemed shocked when Armin explained he was from there. People from Shiganshina just never became successful. They never became lawyers or doctors. Armin had fought to be the exception for a long time, even Bertolt was surprised to hear that Armin had been from a slum like Shiganshina.

            "Maybe it was an inside job. Shiganshina is full of gangs." Bertolt mused to himself, leaning back on his chair. "Judge Nicholas wasn't very loved by them. He put a lot of those people behind bars."

            "Still doesn't explain the tarot cards. I don't know what the murderer wanted to do with that. And it doesn't make sense. gangs like to be quick about it. This person took their time. We're looking for a nutcase, I promise you that much." Annie huffed and stamped out the cigarette in the ashtray at the front of the car. Bertolt rolled the window down slightly to get some air, a few patters of rain coming to greet him.

            "Well let's just hope that Jean has something good to say." Bertolt remarked.

            "Oh I'm sure he's got a lot to say." Annie huffed, and pulled out a small bottle of scotch.

            The ride was long and arduous. Traffic accumulated after a while, and the ride felt like nothing more than waiting in the rain. Bertolt had shifted back and forth and eventually settled on laying down on his side, not wanting to irritate his bottom anymore.  His legs were awkwardly curled up to his chest, and even then his neck and feet were still touching the sides of the car, so he had to tuck his head in a bit. He wanted to grumble about cars not accommodating tall people, but it was more trouble than it was worth. Even Armin had eventually drifted, his hands still clutching his paperwork tightly in his sleep. Annie had finished off a bottle of scotch and had returned to smoking once the traffic started to build on the highway. Bertolt felt himself dosing at the pitter-patter of rain when Annie shot a question at him.

            "Do you really think you got the flu?" Annie asked.

            Bertolt was silent for a few moments, before lifting his head, deciding to think through what she had said. There could be no hidden meaning.

            "That's what the doctor said.. So I guess." Bertolt mumbled.

            "I meant do you think you just randomly got it?" Annie specified.

            "You think someone gave it to me?" Bertolt tried to think a bit on that idea, but decided to just listen to Annie's thoughts.

            "Let me explain something Bertolt. When you get a chemical reaction in your brain, it sends a trigger to your immune system. It dampens it or it strengthens it depending on what chemical reacted. Sometimes your immune system is dampened when you didn't mean for it to happen. You know it seems happy people never get sick? Or whatever that phrase is... Fear is a very strong chemical reaction. It can dampen your immune system really badly."

            "... Are you saying I scared myself into getting the flu?" Bertolt asked, craning his neck forward.

            "Perhaps. I'm not sure." Annie shrugged quickly to dismiss her words, and turned to him, a flash of her blue eyes sending chills over him. "What do you think happened?"

            Bertolt examined her question. She seemed genuinely asking him, not wondering what he thought happened.

            "I felt ill when I left the crime scene the other day... or a couple of days ago. I felt dizzy though... I don't think I was scared. I just remembered something that I didn't understand..."

            "And what was it?" Annie asked, turning her head.

            "I don't know..." Bertolt blinked. "The more I tried to think about it, the worse I got. I... I guess I got myself sick thinking about it. I don't know what it was, but my brain just didn't want to think about it. I really tried. I almost passed out when I did. And when I got home I kept vomiting all over the place. I guess you might be right, and I made myself ill but... I don't think I could really react that badly that suddenly... could I?"

            "The body is an interesting thing." Annie shrugged, and started to pick up speed in the traffic to Trost. The rain poured down, and Bertolt looked around outside at the pale bluish grey colour that had infected the sky and air. The rain didn't  look like it would ever end soon. Bertolt sighed against the window, letting the heat of his breath fog the glass. Annie was quieter than usual, but she began to speak.

            "You know, the brain is the greediest organ. It's only two percent of your bodyweight, and takes almost twenty percent of your oxygen. It dictates everything, yet we control it. It's our minds that we keep centered out deepest opinions and beliefs." she started to explain before she hesitated, and brought the cigarette to her face, and took a good long drag. The puff of smoke exiting her mouth drifted to the roof and clung to the fabric for a moment before slowly fading as Bertolt rolled the window open again, getting pelted with rain. Annie turned her head, and a little smile played across her face.

            "Every boundary we overcome is just a boundary we thought defined us..." she whispered, and it seemed she was speaking to herself.

            Bertolt wanted to question the meaning of her words, but her tone deterred him. He didn't want to get tangled in Annie's philosophy, he had a feeling it would be better if he stayed far away from anything like that.

            "I lied to Armin." Annie said in her usual tone. "I told him that Jean is the most reliable resource we have right now. That's not true." she turned her head to face Bertolt, peering over his confused expression.

"Until you figure out what you got sick about, our most important suspect is you."

* * *

 

Annie left Bertolt completely helpless to what she had meant. And his memory, distant and vague as it was, now terrified him more than ever. Whatever he had forgotten, Annie truly believed it not only was important, but was completely relevant to the case. Bertolt tried desperate to remember what he had thought of. Snow. Blood. Anything? Nothing. He shook his head violently in irritation. If he could remember maybe Annie was on to something, maybe it was something about that case. That had to be why it was so similar wasn't it? Or something like that? Annie had strange methods, but never any that made him distrust her. He had no idea if this was his brain telling him "Let me help you." or "Let me screw you over in greater frequency." Seeing the near argument he had almost gotten in with Erwin, he had a feeling his brain leaned towards the latter.

            Armin was a light sleeper. A gentle tap on the shoulder from Annie and he sat upright, his wide blue eyes were alert to everything.

            "Are we there yet?" Armin asked quietly.

            "No," Annie hummed. "But we are in Trost. I just have to find the address." she looked down quickly at a napkin covered in cigarette ashes that she had placed her notes on. "Sunshine Low-rise apartment complex... Lower main street. If that isn't a drug addict joint I don't know what is." she seemed to be joking, but Bertolt decided to never be sure, and never pretend he was sure what Annie was talking about.

            Trost was a beautiful sprawling town, a bit of suburbs and bright garden parks every here and there. The town was very crowded and still developing. Large new skyscrapers and hotels dotted the horizon, malls and subway maps abound. Yet still there were tall red-brick housing, dating the old and new places in town. People drifted to and fro hugging their umbrellas close to their bodies. Everyone was in trench coats, beige and black, navy blue if you wanted to make a statement. It was busy and loud and fast, a business town at work.

            But this was not the side of Trost Jean lived at. Annie took them to a very different side of Trost. Where little to no money was put into the town. The vacant lots were covered in weeds and trash and broken furniture, no longer wanted. Where abandon building were covered in graffiti, the doors broken in, the windows smashed, and ever so often movement on the other side, of a stranger who inhabited the condemned housing. Smoke drifted from the alleyways, the smell of burning garbage was thick in the air. As Annie pulled in towards one of the low rise apartment complexes, he could see what Annie meant. The apartments were nothing better than a rundown motel. Only two stories of apartments. Annie parked outside, there were a few people huddled under the eaves of the roof for rain and they peered to Annie's Sedan Deville like some sort of unknown creature. In gold letter that had been broken apart stood the title.  _Sunshine Apartments._ Bertolt now understood what Annie meant. The bright and cheery named only suited something so disgusting as the projects. It was funny to the people that never lived there, that was how it worked.

By then the drive had lasted two hours and the rain had started to clear away, a faint drizzle left behind. Smoke still rose clearly behind the building, as well as from inside. Bertolt had a feeling the apartments didn't accommodate chimneys, but he had no desire to ask.

            "All right. Let's go." Annie huffed, puffing a few breaths of her cigarette.

            "I... I think I'll stay in the car." Armin replied, hugging his paperwork to his chest.

            "Come on Armin, be a man." Annie huffed, stamping the cigarette out. "This is Trost, the city of big expectations. What's to be afraid of?"

            "This isn't the side of Trost I thought we'd be on..." Armin mumbled. "I just... want to keep the car safe."

            "Of all the people that's going to keep the car safe it's not going to be you." Annie retorted. "Now get out. It'll be fine, trust me."

            Armin hesitated, pulling at his ponytail a few times before sighing a bit. "All right, fine. I don't believe you, but I'll get out." Armin hesitantly unbuckled his seatbelt, Annie was already slipping out of the car. Bertolt exited the car as well, bringing out his small shoulder bag and joining Annie's side. Armin had the right idea, but he knew better than to argue with Annie. Armin hesitated, putting on his glasses and walked over to Annie, looking around at the people peering out at them. Annie locked the car doors, and jerked away to the side, beckoning the two to follow. Both men huddled close to Annie, and looked around, trying not to look anyone in the eye.

            Annie held the napkin close, the drizzle of rain catching and blotting the ink. She rushed under the shade of the roof and looked down at the address. She walked up the stairs, spending no time to idle around the other people who had slowly started to gather around the detectives. The others had a creepy look in their eyes, admiring their coats and starting to look at Annie's car.

            "Stop acting scared Armin." Annie hissed. "You're egging them on."

            "I'm not." Armin whimpered. "I'm just worried."

            Annie checked the napkin again, climbing the stairs to the top. "Just hurry." she huffed, and looked down the hallway. "Twenty two B..." she murmured. Bertolt started to look around for the number. Twenty A, Twenty B... Twenty two B. Annie came forward to the door, Bertolt and Armin quickly following. Bertolt stepped back, looking around at the people nearby. Armin nearly clung to Annie. She rapped the door with her knuckles, standing still for a moment. Bertolt watched the others that stood in the distance, a pair had followed them up the stairs, but they stayed their distance. They looked scrawny, but wiry and twitchy. Bertolt did not want to agitate them, so he stayed away, trying to listen to their whispers.

             _"What are they doing?"_

_"Look like fuckin' feds."_

_"Probably going to arrest the whore."_

_"I bet. They always need some token to arrest and they pretend they're doing good catching druggies right?"_

_"Just leave em be, I don't want to get fucking arrested."_

_"I bet he'll like prison. He's been takin it up the ass so much it'll be like he was prepping for it."_

            Bertolt could hear the two cackling before they slipped away from the stairs. He tilted his head, curious to know what they were talking about. He heard the door starting to click and he turned his head quickly to finally take the sight of Jean Kirstein.

            Jean's eyes were the first things he could see. They looked scared, and wide, flicking back and forth. As his face stuck out of the door, his skin was greyish-white, and his face was covered in scratches and sores. His cheek bones were sunken in, making his eyes look even bigger, even scarier, like a owl. He was wearing a hoodie, and Bertolt could see underneath a thick sweater. His bulky clothing could not hide his skinniness, instead accentuating it. His clothing draped on him like it was hard to hold the weight. His pants were sweatpants, stained and wrinkled. He grabbed a fistful of his own hair, shakily running his fingers through it. As he did so, Bertolt could see some of his hair fall out, and he found himself blinking a few times, almost in shock.

            "My name is Annie Leonhart, we spoke on the phone?" Annie asked, extending her hand for a handshake.

            "Y-yes..." Jean finally spoke, his voice was so scratchy and weak Bertolt didn't believe he was the same person, just some hollow shell of his old self. He didn't reach out for her hand, instead staring at it, and looking to her eyes. "Annie... And... Bertolt." his eyes flickered over to Bertolt, where he examined him for a moment before turning to face Armin.

            "This is Armin Arlert, he's our lawyer, he's going to make sure you're comfortable. If you feel like you're nervous or self-conscious of our questions you can tell him." Bertolt realised this was Annie's selling point to get people comfortable. It had sucked him into the job in the first place, and he was concerned what it actually meant if she was using it on someone like Jean. Jean nodded his head as she explained, and looked back to Annie. He said nothing, waiting for the other.

            "We would like to ask a few questions and take a few notes. We can leave you as an anonymous source for your safety. May we come inside?" Annie asked. Armin looked almost shocked, his eyes wide at the thought of stepping in to the apartment, but he did not voice his concern. Bertolt too felt queasy at the thought of entering the apartment. He could imagine the condition it was in after looking at the exterior.

            "Uhh... Sure." Jean opened the door and the strong waft of marijuana came to their noses. Armin covered his mouth and nose quickly, the bitter herb scent piercing his nose and he knitted his brows in silent protest. Bertolt shook his head, looking to Annie, feeling a bit sceptical of her trust in Jean. Annie shrugged, smiling almost comically, as if it was all a joke.

            "This should be interesting." Annie remarked, folding her arms.

            "What happened to him? I thought he was riding a full scholarship to a college in Sina..." Armin mumbled, hugging his bag.

            "Life happened." Annie replied kicking off her shoes. "Come on you two, I thought you were civilized. Don't be rude."

            Bertolt decided to follow Annie's example and kicked off his wet shoes. Armin went against it, keeping his shoes on. The two stepped in, Armin close behind.

Jean's apartment was cleaner than Bertolt had imagined, much cleaner. Though clean might have been too grandiose of a word.

            It was barren. There was almost no furniture in his studio apartment. Even a vacant lot was filled with more furniture than Jean's house. His kitchen was open right into his living room-slash bedroom. There was a sink, a stovetop, a refrigerator, a broken table and stools. The bedroom area, which was not separated, was nothing but cold wooden flooring, only a pile of rags Bertolt assumed was a makeshift bed. The apartment was freezing and smelt heavy with marijuana and other chemicals. One of the windows was open wide, desperately trying to let out the smell of weed, but only letting the rain in. Jean turned back to them for a moment, standing between his kitchen and bedroom.

            "I'm sorry. I thought there was only two people coming... I would've brought more chairs." Jean mumbled, pointing out he had only three stools. " I'll sit on the floor."

            "We'll all sit on the floor." Annie replied. Armin looked to her like she was crazy, and looked down at the floor in disgust. Annie turned her head, scowling at Armin, and returned her gaze to Jean.

            "Let's be casual here, Jean. You look scared. Just relax, we just want to talk about your old friend Marco. Then we'll leave, and we will pretend nothing ever happen. For now, let's be friends. Okay?"

            Jean seemed won over by Annie's simple words, and quickly nodded his head. He craned his neck forward a bit, and adjusted his sleeves. As he pulled the sweater sleeves down, in a few seconds he pulled them back down, but Bertolt had already seen. His arms were skinny as beanpoles, and covered in scars that usually came from needles being pulled out improperly. Jean stepped over to the kitchen, grabbing a glass.

            "Um... do you want something to drink?" he asked, looking down.

            "Water." Annie replied, sitting down by Jean's pile of rags. "Do you mind if we sit here?" Jean shook his head as he noticed Annie sitting down by his bed.

            "And you?" Jean's eyes flashed to Bertolt and Armin.

            "Water is fine." Bertolt replied, sitting on his knees next to Annie. He looked around at the room, wrapping his arms around himself.

            "I... I have my own." Armin mumbled, pulling a bottle of water out of his bag. He gave him an awkward smile, and held the bottle close. "Uh.. Thank you though..."

            "Y-yeah..." Jean fumbled around with the glasses and filled them with sink water. He set the glasses down by Annie and Bertolt. Jean stuck his legs in the rags, pulling a piece of light blue tarp over his shoulders for warmth. Jean looked like he was always cold, his body was so skinny and shaky, and Bertolt felt a twinge in his chest seeing Jean look almost happy to be in a pile of rags. Bertolt looked down at the tap water, slightly afraid as he noticed the water was a greenish-yellow consistency. Annie was already drinking some of it, her eyes focusing on Jean.

            "I.. I'm sorry I would put ice cubes but... the refrigerator is broken... I... I was going to buy a new one... I just need more money." Jean scratched the back of his neck, clawing through his hair again and settled into his tarp. Bertolt could hear his head screaming "Liar". Jean would use the money for more drugs, and not to believe Jean. Bertolt felt guilty for it. Even now he realised he had been taught to have no pity on the kind of person Jean had become. And in the end, they had stuck with him, it was hard to pity Jean in this state.

            "It's fine. I can drink water without ice. Jean, I know it's difficult to speak about, and I appreciate you complying." Annie asked, setting her glass of water down. "Any info about Marco could be very useful for our investigation."

            "This is about Judge Nicholas right?" Jean turned to look towards the window, nodding his head. "The people downstairs had a party when they heard he was dead..."

            "I see he was well loved here." Annie remarked before biting her lip a bit. Bertolt knew she had to make as few snarky remarks as possible. "I understand the people here wouldn't really be disheartened by his death... But there are a very big amount of similarities between his death and Marco's. I'm sure you heard-"

            "His heart was ripped out, his arms and legs were cut off, and a tarot card was put in his hand." Jean responded. "I heard from the people downstairs... Marco wasn't like Judge Nicholas though. He never had an enemy. He never hurt someone, or screwed anyone over. Marco wanted to help people. He... He was voted most likely to succeed by the class. I think he should've been voted best smile..." Jean looked down at his bed, pulling another rag over his lap and shuffling his tarp over his shoulders better. His golden coloured eyes started to glisten and they glowed in the dark of his unlit apartment.

            "He... He didn't deserve to die... No one hated him. He wanted to be a doctor... He wanted to help people..." Jean looked down at his hands, sniffling softly. "The person that killed him... I... I don't know. They were a monster..."

            "Do you think they might have been angry at Marco for getting a scholarship?" Annie asked, turning to face Jean better. "Do you think that someone had it out for Marco? Someone in school? Or someone outside?"

            "I... I don't know. I know there was a lot of good students in the class, but only ten people can get that scholarship every four years. Even if someone wanted that scholarship... I... I don't know why they would do what they did to him..." Jean stuttered, and he covered his chest trying to play it off as clearing his throat before he sat up better. "No one would be that angry... Not a student. No... A monster did that to him..." He lifted his eyes, glowing brightly and ground his teeth.

            "If you find who killed him... Keep them far away from me... Because I'd murder him as slowly as possible..." Jean mumbled, twitching and turning away.

            "I understand. Marco was a good friend to you. Tell me Jean, if you're uncomfortable you don't have to answer. Why did you drop out of college?" Annie asked, shifting forward, but making sure to keep a good distance. "Did you not want to go without Marco? Or did someone convince you not to go?"

            "No... I didn't want to go... It doesn't matter." Annie grimaced a bit as Jean started to shy from the question. Bertolt could tell this meant Jean would stop talking out of hesitation, which meant they had gotten nowhere.

            "All right. I won't pry anymore. I know you asked Bertolt to be here. Is there a specific reason you wanted to speak to Bertolt?" Bertolt turned at the question. Annie had never actually brought this up to him, though he knew he was here for a reason. He shifted forward as Jean's stared at him intensely and he shifted to Bertolt a bit.

            "I just... I recognized you. I wanted to talk to you when I heard you were there. I... I heard you became a detective." Jean mumbled, and looked to Bertolt. "I... I wanted to ask you how your life has been... That's all."

            Bertolt pursed his lips and nodded his head. He had never taken Jean as a reminiscent type, but time had certainly changed him.

            "I'm... I'm living down in Karanese. We came from there to Trost." Bertolt replied casually, feeling a little uncomfortable to be talking about his personal life around others. Jean nodded his head, looking back at him again.

            "You live with a cop right?" Bertolt twitched at the question, and knitted his brows together.

            "Yes... He's my... partner." Bertolt hesitated to say boyfriend or lover, he was afraid of reactions, most were awkward and negative. Jean just stared, his gaze made Bertolt more uncomfortable and he settled back on his knees a bit, trying to avoid the gaze.

            "You live in the apartment complex by the strip mall right?" Bertolt felt his stomach turning, these questions were too specific for his comfort and he didn't appreciate them.

            "How did you know that?" He asked back, feeling a bit disturbed by the specifics.

            Jean opened his eyes a bit and looked down at his knees quickly. "I'm sorry. I was going to approach you once... And I came to Karanese, but... You looked happy. I didn't want to bother you so I left." he mumbled and rubbed his fingers through his hair, more blonde hairs falling out.

            Bertolt felt relieved, Jean was probably going around asking for money, and then he felt guilty realising that was his first thought. He really did believe Jean was desperate for money, and what he had said proved it, at least in Bertolt's mind. Jean continued to look away a bit ashamed and Bertolt felt a bit prouder that he had an upper hand on a situation. He also felt guilt for his feelings, and wished he could just punch himself. Why did his brain have to carry all these ideas around? He sighed softly, shaking his head. He could see Annie twitch, meaning she noticed his tic, but he pretended to ignore it.

            "It would have been fine. You can approach me if you want to. " Bertolt felt like he was nearly lying. He didn't want to be approached by anyone, but Jean looked so desperate and terrified by everything that he couldn't help allowing him to ask for help. " You were correct though. I live at the apartment by the mall... I go there pretty often. I... I dropped out of college in the middle of my third year."

            "I know." Bertolt twitched when Jean responded. He seemed to know everything, and he really didn't enjoy it. He realised Annie had been the same with him, but she expected much more out of Annie, and she delivered when it came to detective work. Jean was... useless. Bertolt ground his teeth together from the guilt he felt.

            "I wanted to apologise about everything in high school... For making fun of you." Jean suddenly began to say. Bertolt raised his brow, feeling three years was a long time to wait for something like an apology. He didn't really remember being bullied by Jean, Bertolt had learned to sharpen his own senses he would have to abandon the things taking up space in his brain. Though name-calling had hurt him in the past, he did not remember it anymore, not even what Jean had said to him.

            "It doesn't matter to me." Bertolt replied. "I don't remember much of what you said about me. And it hasn't affected my life at all. It would take a lot to do that." He blinked a few times, realising what a tone he must have suddenly put on. Annie was smirking at him, seeing he had put a bit of cynics in his tone. "But thank you for apologising. I know some people don't know how to apologise properly, they just never get humble."

            "I... I just realised... how much it probably hurts to get pushed around, and called names... So I hope I didn't bother you in any way. Especially in gym or anything..."

            What was he even talking about? Jean sounded crazy. He didn't even remember gym class. Maybe Jean had called him a giant and pushed him around, but it wasn't anything important, just roughhousing. Bertolt shifted around, trying to keep himself from shrugging. He had been told never to take anything to heart. Bertolt didn't know what the issue was if it didn't even affect him enough to stay in his head.

            "I'm sure it's fine Jean. You don't have to feel sorry about anything. In fact I don't really remember high school to be honest. Everything was kind of a blur." Bertolt remarked.

            "Lately someone has been teaching me that people should be kinder..." Jean explained, he looked a little hurt, and hugged his knees to his chest. "It's hard to hold onto the people who care about you..."

            "I know Marco must've been that way to you... I'm sorry that he died that way. He would've been a good doctor." Bertolt had a feeling they could shift their discussions back to Marco, and decided to exploit it.

            "He was... He didn't deserve what happened to him..." Jean explained. "Marco had said that he didn't like walking down that alleyway alone, but he had a night class he attended to help him with college work... I know the killer probably got him then... He didn't do anything to anyone... The killer just wanted to leave some sort of creepy message. They probably thought Marco would be real easy to kill..."

            "Do you feel like that tarot card matched Marco's personality?" Bertolt asked. "The Chariot represents-"

            "Our journey to the future." Jean cut in, his brows knitted.

            "Well, also energy and bravery. It's left to the interpretation." Bertolt explained.

            "No. I meant the actual chariot, not the tarot card. The chariot represents a lot. The chariot pulled Adam and Eve out of the Garden. And they became the rulers of themselves. Makers of their own destiny. The chariot in the story of Phaeton tells of how dangerous it can be to go forward, to reach for goals that are too difficult. To go off the beaten path. It's a warning for adulthood. They didn't want to send a warning to Marco, I think they wanted to send a message to the whole world..."

            Jean started to trail off, his eyes wavering as they looked towards the window again. Bertolt could hear Armin shuffling uncomfortably and he decided to initiate standing up, and hopefully leaving.

            "Thank you for everything Jean. But I think we should leave." Bertolt replied, dusting himself off. Jean reached out for his hand and gripped it tightly. Bertolt looked down, slow to respond, and blinked as Jean stared at him.

            "Please find that monster. I want to see him die." Jean mumbled, his eyes glowing.

            Bertolt felt himself clam up, wanting to pull away from Jean. Instead Annie intervened, placing her hand Jean's hand, which was still digging into Bertolt.

            "Don't worry." Annie spoke up. "People who murder like that die inhuman deaths."

            Jean looked at her for a long moment and slowly dropped his hand down, hugging his knees to his chest. He sighed softly, and dropped his head down, folding his arms. Armin had started to shuffle away to the door, but wasn't willing to leave without Annie's protection. Annie gently smoothed out Jean's rough hair, and offer him a hand.

            "Show us to the door. We're sorry for bothering you." Annie explained. Jean looked to her, and grabbed her hand. Annie pulled a bit too hard, forgetting how skinny Jean was, and pulled him to his feet in one quick go.

            "Don't be sorry... I want this case to be solved." Jean mumbled. "I just hope I can help..."

            "You did. I think we've heard everything we needed to hear though." Annie explained as they started to move out. She slipped on her shoes, and Bertolt kneeled over to tie his back on. Jean stared at them hesitantly, he seemed relieved to finally speak of Marco again. Bertolt slowly rose back up, and felt a bit of guilt in him. He could see Jean was in dire straits, and he had nearly nothing. Bertolt looked to Annie and Armin.

            "You two go without me." he huffed. Annie nodded her head in understanding.

            "But you don't want to walk alone out here..." Armin mumbled, turning his head to Bertolt his eyes wide.

            "Armin. He's an adult. Let him be." Annie decided not to explain what she already knew and pulled Armin along. Bertolt sighed, and turned back to Jean who was slowly shutting the door.

            "Hey, wait." Bertolt hissed. Jean tensed and, opened the door slightly. Bertolt shoved his hand in his coat and pulled out his wallet. He knew he had gotten a bit of money still there that he thought he would spend on presents for Erwin's birthday. Instead it stayed nestled in his wallet, a crisp fifty dollar bill.

            "Here. And don't be sorry about high school. I have no hard feelings." Bertolt explained, extending the cash. Jean looked at him a little confused, and stepped back, as if he thought it was a joke.

            "I want you to use this to buy food and a better blanket." Bertolt huffed, feeling a sudden strictness overcome him. "You don't buy anything else. Except maybe a haircut."

            Jean took a moment to take in what he said. He blinked a few times, his hand still gripping the doorknob and he looked like he was going to turn away. But slowly he nodded and took the money shamefully and slowly. He looked down at his feet and stepped back into his apartment, shutting the door with a silent click. Not another word was exchanged. He showed no sense of real happiness, instead he seemed like he was about to cry. Bertolt turned away, unsure if he had done any real good or had caused another death by O.D.

            "You're too nice for your own good you know?" Annie's voice echoed down the hall, she had lingered, but cleared the way just so Bertolt could have his moment with Jean. "You're not his mommy. He's not going to listen to you. Not that he would listen to his mother at this point."

            "Oh I'd like to hear what you have to say about him. I'm sure it's good." Bertolt remarked, feeling a bit of annoyance in his chest as Annie started to predict Jean's choices.

            "Oh I could write a whole book about what I just saw. What's to say? Jean is pathetic because he depended on his friend to support him. Marco's gone and Jean fucks up bad and ends up in a place like this. From what I can tell is Jean was a prissy rich boy. He just said the wrong thing and his parents cut him off from their money. Now he turns to anything that makes him feel good. Weed and heroin. I don't even need to try to explain that to you." Annie replied as Bertolt made his way to them. Armin was still looking around, though most of the inhabitants of the area seemed to have dispersed.

            "What did you think of that?" Armin asked. "The interviewing and all?"

            "Huge waste of time. My bad, I should have figured it out. All I can say is I don't even know if the two cases are related anymore." Annie huffed, shoving her hand into her pocket and producing a cigarette. After lighting it she took a long drag and looked down at her feet. "I don't even know where this is going. It's just a fuckin who-dun-it case."

            "Jean seemed to really know what Marco's card was aiming towards." Armin added. "I think he might have been right. Maybe it's not the card and the interpretation, but what's actually on the card. Justice isn't really a thing though so I don't-"

            "Oh don't start this Armin." Annie growled. "This is just what the killer wants. Get in your head and fuck around with you. Make you think he's onto something. That there's some sort of mystery with these fuckin cards. Stop it. It's not going to help. What matters is if we can get some actual evidence. I can't believe it. No weapon, no fingerprints on anything. And no one in Shiganshina will come forward with an eyewitness testimony. This is going nowhere."

            "I think it might be.." Bertolt mumbled. "I hope I'm wrong though..."

            "What do you mean?" Annie asked.

            "I thought maybe you were right, the cards don't have anything important... But what about the numbers? The Chariot is seven, and Justice is eleven. Maybe the killer is using them as counters?" he explained, the three started to head down to the Sedan, getting in quickly they all agreed on wanting to leave as soon as possible.

            "Well that'd be a shame if it was. There's eleven bodies out there somewhere that have been dismembered. We'd have to look around really hard to find them." Annie huffed, settling in the driver's seat and lighting another cigarette with her half-smoked one. "I sure as hell hope the cases aren't linked..." she exhaled a breath of grey smoke and started to pull out, hoping that they would leave  _Sunshine Apartments_  for good.

            "Maybe they're not doing the dismemberment in order." Bertolt explained, twisting the handle around to roll the window down and look out at the grey muddiness of the earth after the rain had cleared.

            "Then what are you getting on about? You can't exactly leave cards to count your victims if you aren't starting at one." Annie remarked, clenching her teeth into the cigarette.

            "Not counting the victims. Maybe they were counting them before hand, but they're trying to be strategic and poetic. The Justice card on a Judge is an obvious one. Jean seemed to have a good handle on the other victims card, the Chariot. It was a moving towards the future type of representation. Regardless, the cards are numbered. Tarot cards end at twenty-two. At least the Major Arcana." Bertolt explained, shifting in his seat.

            "So you're saying that the person is probably going to end on twenty two murders?" Annie asked, rubbing her temples in frustration. "Twenty two dismemberments... I really don't want to see this to the end if that's true."

            "I don't know..." Bertolt said defensively, "I can only hope not. But I don't know."

            "He certainly waited if that's true." Armin responded. "It's been almost three years since Marco Bodt passed. He took his time finding the Judge."

            "I don't think so. I think he was just waiting for the right time and took it. Same with Marco. He didn't just wait for Marco to show up. He watched Marco's moves, watched how Marco's day went, and decided he was the perfect person to deliver his message." Annie flung her cigarette out the window, keeping her hand gripped to the steering wheel. "We're dealing with a real nutcase if that's it..."

            "He's keeping tabs on people..." Armin huffed.

            "Who's to blame him? With home telephones and phone books it's so easy to get in touch with the right people. Technology is crazy that way..." Annie sighed softly, taking in a big breath of fresh air. She exhaled, and started to cough.

            "Calm down Annie, your lungs almost felt actual air there." Bertolt remarked, watching her go into a coughing fit from a sigh alone.

            "Shut your face." Annie was able to speak between her coughs. Armin chuckles a little bit at the joke and Annie gives him a growl before coughing again. Bertolt rolls his eyes, looking out at the dreary rain-soaked world. Eventually, even Annie smirks a little at Bertolt's joke on her expense. She does it only out of irony, but her smile fades away. Bertolt is still surprised the group of them can even laugh and joke around with each other. The car drives silently, no noises expect the sound of tires speeding over wet asphalt, and for a moment, as if they were frozen in place, everything seemed all right in the world.

 


	5. Debt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean has one last debt to pay

 

Jean Kirstein was born in the good side of Trost. He lived in a large redbrick apartment in town very close to his father's lawyer firm. His father always wore a suit, suspenders, and a tie. All black, sometimes the tie was navy blue if he was daring. His mother never left home, like every mother in Trost was told. Look after the family. There was nothing better for women to do than raise future lawyers and doctors. Jean was told that being a lawyer was where it was at. His father told him all the reasons he needed to be a lawyer when he got a job. All the money he could get, all the right people to screw over. How he had solved miracle cases through arguments alone. Jean learned the ways of robbing people blind every night at the dinner table.

This was one reason why Jean wanted to be a doctor.

            School came easy, how could it not? He was a Kirstein. There was always pressure to be a lawyer, but even in elementary school all the kids had the same story. No child dreamed of being an astronaut, or a jet fighter. Lawyer or doctor, or businessman. No silly dreams, no childish desires, no creativity. Jean was somehow convincing enough to get his father to put him in a public high school. Most of the Sina colleges would pass out scholarships like coupons to the desperate graduates like Macy's gave out coupons. It worked, Jean got his own scholarship, a full ride to medical school in Sina. Jean's parents were already packing for him when it was confirmed. Jean was supposed to support himself, and was to be kicked out of his own home at age eighteen. Jean was ready for that, Jean knew everything that was coming, being a rich man, marrying to more money. Making a family with some woman, ensuring his future. Everything was looking up.

            And then he met Marco. Despite all the ridicule and lashing out from Jean, Marco stuck by him. Jean even told him how disgusting he was constantly, but Marco only ever laughed it off. Marco smiled with him, and ate with him, and most importantly  _disagreed_  with him. Jean had never met someone who would stand their ground like Marco. People either came to try and criticise Jean, or they kissed his ass all day. Marco was there not to push his opinion, or ask for anything, other than friendship. Marco had even had a weird fascination with trolleybuses. Trolleybuses had been running in Trost until the late 1950's, and Marco always said he felt robbed of the joy of riding them. He had only seen one once when he was a child.

            Marco had enjoyed the simple things in life, things Jean never really understood. And he came closer to liking him, adoring him, loving him. It was slow, it took three years for the whole relationship to start to shift, and Jean took a long time to notice, but Marco was so wonderfully patient with him. One day, Jean remembered taking a walk through town with Marco, following the old trolleybuses routes. No particular rhyme or reason, and for once in his life Jean felt the pressure of being a lawyer or a doctor go away. Just for one little walk. Marco and Jean walked until their feet hurt and the lines ended, and there was no where left to go. Marco smiled the whole time, and Jean stayed right next to him, just so he could see his smile.

            Marco had studied hard. Harder than anyone at school. He wanted to break his stereotype, he wanted to be the best doctor out of St Maria High School. Jean supported him the whole way, if he could give him the fortune Jean owned, Jean would have given it to him in a heartbeat. Instead Marco planned for a surgeon route. He planned on making his own firm. He planned on going out in the world and helping people that could not get surgery, and do them for free. He had big plans, and Jean was impressed by his bravery. Marco had little to nothing from the start, and worked his way up. Jean learned how lucky he was, and how much he wanted to give back. Marco became Jean's everything. He became Jean's first friend, his first love, and his first partner. Jean lost his virginity in all of about two minutes with Marco, at a party where he was half drunk. It wasn't sex that he enjoyed, it was waking up in the man's arms, his fingers intertwined with his hair and the sensation of being surrounded by such a gentle warmth.

            Marco had been murdered before he could ever go out as see a real trolleybus. Jean lost everything over that. Jean could no longer bring himself to care about anything. Jean forgot how to smile after a few months. So Jean started to seek out things that made people happy again. Jean looked towards a drug he had once seen people smoking at a party. Jean became heavily addicted to marijuana. He couldn't go a day without smoking it. Jean lost his money to that. Jean's parents gave him no sympathy, cutting him off from everything, disowning him as a son. If they could Jean was sure they'd take his last name. A shame to the Kirstein family he was. Jean became desperate for more, for better things, for that warm comfortable feeling. Jean then turned to a different side of Trost. Jean met a man who would give him anything for the right price. Jean learned the horrible side of Trost, the side he now lived in. The side of Trost he had become a part of.  Jean learned what happened to the people that were screwed over by the justice system, and Jean learned just who those people were.

* * *

In a blind state of confusion and pain, Jean Kirstein awoke in the middle of a dark room. There was a strong scent of marijuana, booze, and sweat. The sick wet sound of skin slapping against skin came to his ears and slowly he started to see. Silhouettes were mulling about, the room was dark and damp, and in front of him a skinny older man, his eyes glistening even in the dark. Jean ran his fingers through his hair, his mind catching up, piecing together what was going on.

            The man in front of him, middle aged and ugly, had his pants dropped, Jean's were completely gone, as well as his underwear, and his cock buried deep inside of him. Jean let out a gasp at the sudden sensation of warmth. Jean knew he was in the first floor apartments, the one just below his own home. There was piles of garbage and rotting food, cockroaches scurrying through the scraps. In the corner of the room was a bucket overflowing with urine as a makeshift toilet. People were collapsed on the floor, needles sticking out of their arm. Some people so drunk they were vomiting all over themselves. People smoking marijuana and giggling at the mess before stumbling over garbage, cockroaches scurrying everywhere. Jean wanted to vomit at the scents mixing in his nose. Jean found himself propped on top of a pool table, his usual spot when the men were having their way with his body.

            It was uncomfortable having someone fuck him lazily while he laid on the table, so Jean tried to shift around a bit. His comprehension was slow, and his body was slow to react, he wondered if he was still high, his limbs felt so heavy. Jean realised he must've been tired, he had collapsed some time during the day, and now it was clearly night.

            "Finally wake up?" the man that was fucking him asked, a grin playing on his face. "I thought everyone fucked you unconscious..."

            "Uumm..." Jean mumbled, trying to comprehend speaking back, but it was so hard to breathe. the smell of chemicals and marijuana combined with urine made him mind fuzzy. He knew now that he was correct, he collapsed when some other man was fucking him. His body still ached at the pain of being penetrated earlier without any prep. He had learned that the men liked hearing him scream, so he would prepare himself in his apartment before he left, but not too much that he didn't yelp and moan like they wanted him to. Jean tried to speak to the man who was still slapping his hips into his body. Instead he heard laughing from the other side of the room and dropped his head back on the table, looking back.

            "Ah don't worry bout him, all the slut knows is fuckin and shootin up." hissed another man. Jean recognized him as the landlord, the one who owned the apartment complex. When Jean had run out of money to pay for monthly rent, he convinced Jean to start having sex with him, as a form of compensation. Jean learned that the heroin dealers would accept fucking as a payment too, and soon Jean had nearly seven different people who expected him to pay with fucking them or sucking them off. Almost everyone in the apartment complex called him a whore or a slut. Jean didn't mind, taking it up the ass gave him what he wanted, so names were nothing.

            "Thought he was fuckin dead." another man joked, chuckling and running his greasy fingers through Jean's hair. Jean shivered and shied away, looking down at the man who was back to screwing him, holding his thighs tight enough to give him bruises. "Still don't know how you're still alive anyway. I guess you survive on a cum only diet." he laughed again and Jean, a bit of booze leaving  his lips. Jean twitched as some of the booze hit his forehead, but he didn't move to wipe it off.

            "Mhhhnn..." Jean moaned again, and started to shift onto his elbows. His mind was still trying to catch up, click together who was screwing him. If the other men were standing around then clearly he had already been fucked by the landlord... The other man who was cracking jokes must've been the heroin guy... Jean sighed, this must've been the pot dealer, he really liked fucking Jean because no one else would fuck him. He was too ugly, but Jean was just loose enough to comply with anybody.

            "Damn he's got such a round ass for being so fuckin skinny." Jean could hear the landlord speaking, now staring at his body. Jean turned his head, his face flushing red from heat and pain mixed together.

            "I guess that cum diet really is good on your body." Jean could hear the men cackling at their jokes and he sighed. The room was so cold, the place had no electricity or running water, Jean was sure he was one of the few tenants that actually paid for it. It was getting cold, and Jean was grateful that the men had not taken his hoodie and sweater, or he'd be freezing. He shoved his hands into his pockets, his hands starting to get cold with nothing to do. He twitched realising he could feel a bit of money in his pocket, and removed his hands quickly, just keeping them under his back. He noticed one of the men twitching to life, and leaned forward, grinning at him.

            "What was that? Got something in ya pocket?" the man sneered, and Jean tensed up as soon as he asked.

            "Nh, it's nuthin..." Jean mumbled, and shifted around as he noticed the man screwing him was starting to get faster.

            "Really?" the man asked. Before Jean could react, he shot his hand into Jean's pocket and pulled out a fifty dollar bill.

            "Oh? What's this?-" Jean growled and reached forward.

            "That's mine!" Jean snapped. The other man punched his stomach hard, and grabbed his throat. Jean felt fear and pain fill his gut, and the other leaned in, the scent of booze and weed on his breath. He twisted away slightly, clawing the man's hand so he could breathe.

            "Oh? Whatsa matter? Little whores getting defensive." he huffed, gripping Jean's throat even tighter. The man lifted the fifty dollar bill to the dim light coming from an alcohol lamp on the corner of the pool table. "Oohh, fifty bucks huh? Whose dick did ya suck to get this?"

            "It's mine." Jean growled, still clawing at the man's hand, trying to free it from his throat. "Give it back." he grumbled.

            "Quit ya fuckin complainin." he hissed in return. "You owe me money after all that pot I got ya anyway. Why don't I just keep it?" the man withdrew his hand and placed the money into his back pocket.

            "No! That's not for you! It's from... it's from a friend of mine..." Jean hesitated, looking down at the man's clenched fist. He could barely breathe, and the man would not let go of his throat. "Please... I'll pay you back I promise, just give me that back... It's money from a.. a friend." Jean almost felt like laughing. Painfully laughing. Money from a friend. Bertolt had been the "awkward giant" he pushed into the pool during the first week of school. The one Jean avoided to be around because others single him out. The one he bypassed when he saw people picking on him. The one Jean threw rocks at when others dared him to. What a friend he was. And now, Bertolt Hoover, the now turned detective, instead of arresting him, was trying to help him out. He couldn't believe how much anger he felt. Bertolt could have given him a dollar, and he would have still wanted it back desperately. No matter what amount of money it was, Bertolt had given it to him from the bottom of his heart. That was more than any other 'friend' he thought he had did for him.

            "Oh? Maybe we can work something else out then. Ya want the money back so bad." the man smiled and leaned over, turning to the older man. "Stop fuckin him for a moment. Flip him around."

            The older man complied with the orders, pulling his cock out of Jean before throwing him over on his stomach and plunging back into his ass. Jean groaned, whimpering at the pain in his backside, and his stomach. The blow he had received still hurt, his stomach ached when he laid on it. He suddenly felt the other man shove his thick fingers into him, and he groaned, shutting his eyes tightly.

            "What a fuckin slut. Look how wide his ass is." the man who had thieved him of his money started to shift his fingers around, spreading his fingers wide. Jean moaned at the sensation, feeling semen leaking out. "Fuckin hell. You really love this shit don't you? That's why you didn't want to pay us? You just love paying by in the ass so much you don't remember how money works?"

            "N-no... I... ah.. stop..." Jean groaned, and pulled his hips up, gripping on the table. "Please just..."

            "Shut the fuck up." the man snarled, and slapped Jean firmly on the ass. He grabbed Jean's hair tightly, and jerking his body back. Jean yelped loudly, and struggled up to keep his hair from being ripped out of his head. "You want your money back? I'll give it back. I'll give you something else with it." Jean could hear the sound of the man's pants unzipping and sighed softly. Jean didn't struggle, he knew it was pointless. He started to relax as best as he could, trying to let his body drop.

            "Hold him up." the man growled. The other man who still had his cock inside lifted Jean by his thighs, semen dripping down his legs. Jean groaned a bit, and looked down at himself, his eyes half-shut. The man who had stolen his money was facing him, chest to chest.

            "Hmph..." the other man watched the thick white liquid dripping out of Jean's hole. "Real fuckin slut. You must be good. Hold him steady for me." Jean opened his eyes wide, looking to the man who was still holding him upright. The thief dropped his pants, the fifty dollars still sticking out of the pocket, and his cock starting to stiffen, pressing to Jean's body.

            "W-wait, I... I can't take you both at the same time..." Jean mumbled, shaking. He didn't want to imagine taking the man. "It's too much... Please, just... I... I'll pay you back I promise..." he started to get desperate, but it was hard to speak after a punch to the stomach and his throat getting crushed.

            "You take seven dicks a day, you never taken two at the same time?" the man hissed. "Shut the hell up, whore. And you-" he looked to the man. "Keep his legs open wider."

            "W-whait!" Jean stuttered, shifting his hips, only finding the other man's cock burying deeper into him. He winced, finding a pair of thick hands wrapping around his neck, and suddenly the other man pushed his cock in slowly.

            "A-owh..." Jean covered his mouth, trying not to protest. The stretching was horrible and it ached the more the man pressed into him. The man struggled to push in any farther, and started to push Jean down on the shoulders.

            "Fuckin tight..." the man mumbled. "I guess your ass is too used to havin at least one cock in it."

            "Pleease... Ss-thop..." Jean moaned, the pain was irradiating up his spine, and he trembled the more the men started shifting him and pushing him. Eventually the taller pushed him violently and shoved half of his cock in. Jean felt his skin ripping inside, and a scream tore from his lips. It was torment.

            "You like that?" the other man sneered.

            "Stop! Please!" he screamed, pushing at the man. "It hurts! Please..." Jean felt his body giving out, the pain shot up his spine, pooling at the center of his back. His chest heaved, it felt like fire was running in his veins. The other two started to fuck him wildly, and Jean held himself up on the other man's shoulders, he was pressed between them, and he felt all his weight pressing down on their cocks. He whimpered, blood and semen dripping down his legs, his knees gripped tightly by the thief in front of him. Jean did his best to relax, just looking down at the discarded pants on the floor. He gave in as best he could, trying to relax his muscles and get rid of the ache in his body.  Just relax, he told himself, breathe, he mumbled, starting to groan in pain. It was so hard to think, and he found his head resting on the thief's shoulder's. It hurt. The damage was done, and he sighed, wishing it would just end, and then he could crawl back home.

            Eventually the man fucking him earlier came suddenly, and pulled out, leaving the other man to finish up. Jean struggled, but sighed softly, at least the stretching was over. It was agonizing to go on any longer, but the other man was not done. He kept him upright, Jean could feel his body falling with gravity on the man's hard cock. He couldn't stop himself, his limbs were too weak to pull away. Jean shuddered once the other shot his load inside of him. He was pulled out of, and dropped back onto the pool table. The other man chuckled at him, pulling his pants back up.

            "You look so fucked up." he scoffed, and stepped back. "You're going to have to do more than that if you want the money back. Here, have this you slut." the man pulled out a small packet, tossing it on Jean. After collecting himself he started to reach out, looking to what it was. He sighed softly, and sat up as best he could. Blood and cum still dripping all over his thighs. He let his vision clear from the tears that had blurred his sight, and could see a packet of heroin in his lap. Jean took it quickly, pocketing it, and started to get up. It was horrifyingly difficult, Jean was so skinny and frail, he wondered if he could even leave. His legs wobbled, his knees felt weak, his back throbbed all the way down to his ass, but he could stand. And soon he started trying to walk, his hand out to grab the pool table, and another hand grabbing the wall. He walked as fast as he could, and shamefully stumbled over to his sweatpants, putting them on. All Jean wanted, was to leave, his money was never coming back to him, he knew that much. For all he cared, he hoped the other man O.D. on whatever he bought with it.

            Jean made good distance between himself and the apartments, he stumbled the whole way, his body felt so uncomfortable. He could still feel blood and cum leaving his hole, staining his pants. Jean breathed, just keep walking, he told himself, he had no energy to do anything else. He found a small alleyway full of trash and rats scurrying back and forth. Sometimes there would be a homeless man sleeping in the dumpster, but tonight Jean found it all to himself. He sat down by the trash bins, sighing softly. He knew better than to shoot up around the other men, the last time it happened they took his clothes and violated him several times. He pulled out the heroin, pulling out and shifting it around. He tied his a rope around his arm, fastening it tightly. He poured a bit of water into the packet, letting the H dissolve before he filled a needle with it. Jean settled down, at least this would make it all worth it.

            Jean pushed the needle into his arm, he had been using his left arm, after his right arm had gotten too many bruises. He felt the warmth explode suddenly, and tightened his fist, trying to keep himself together. Slowly he settled back, pulling the needle out fast, ripping his vein and starting to bleed down his arm. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered. It didn't hurt a bit.

            Everything felt warm.

            So deliciously warm.

            He slid back against the asphalt, it felt like a cloud. Jean felt he was being surrounded by a blanket, held dearly by the warmth, letting it settle in his muscles. His body felt heavy, his eyes focused on the stars in the inky black sky. It was so cold out, but it never felt sunnier.

            It was so peaceful. So peaceful Jean never wanted to leave. He wanted this feeling to stay forever. The sensation was pleasure he had only felt once in his life. Wrapped up in heat, so comfortable, so familiar. The thought of someone petting his hair, hugging him and running their hands down his skin, curious and happy. Time like this where it felt like he was still alive. Where Marco was still alive. The sense that always came to him, Marco's fingers tangled into his hair, legs intertwined, hands roaming his body pleasantly, like a human being, and not like an animal. Like those animals, pushing him down, torturing him. No... Forget them. Jean curled up, dragging his limbs over his body and covering his face. Just for the moment he could pretend none of them existed. Just Marco and him. Just maybe it could be that way again. That feeling of being pet and groomed like a human being. Marco wrapping his arms around him, kissing him and laughing softly. And never shutting up about trolleybuses and how cool they were. Senseless thoughts, and lazy days. Jean wanted to feel Marco run his fingers through his hair. It was all he ever wanted to feel again...

            Jean felt hands roaming over his face, for a few minutes, he didn't care. It was hard to move, so he didn't try to lift his arms. They felt like boulders. A hand ran through his hair. It was gentle, sweet, like when Marco touched him. It couldn't have been one of the dealers. Whoever this was, they were gentle, but it wasn't loving, more conscious. Jean opened his eyes half-lidded, and drunk in the sight of starlight above him. An image faded in, a person shrouded in darkness, all except their eyes. He could see a pair of beautiful eyes staring down at him, coaxing him back to life.

            "Wake up..." a voice came.

            "Marco...?" he mumbled, shifting back.

            "No... Jean Kirstein. Sit up, I've returned." Jean's eyes opened at the voice, and slowly he started to rise, feeling the dried blood on his arm. In front of him was a figure, though his vision was disoriented, and his mind was slow. The figure dressed in a trench coat, and their features darkened by the shadows of night. Yet their eyes still shined brightly, and scanned Jean all over. Jean realised he was propped up in the figure's lap, hands travelling over his cheeks and chin like a mother to a child.

            "O-oh... It's you.. I.. I didn't realise you'd come today. I... I got the info." Jean replied, nodding firmly, and looking wide eyed. "I promise, I saw him yesterday, just like you said. I paid for electricity this month so I could call him. The detective right? Our classmate?"

            "Yes... how is Bertolt?" the other stood up, wandering through the alleyway, though the way the trench coat shifted made it look as if the figure floated over the ground, hovering like a ghost.

            "He... He's good. He lives at the apartment by the Karanese mall complex. Apartment ten forth floor." Jean replied, sitting up on his haunches and looking eagerly to the man. "He lives with a cop-"

            "Erwin Smith... I'm well aware. None of this is new to me." the voice sounded a bit irritated.

            "He... He's in on the Judge case. He's been looking into the tarot cards and stuff..." Jean mumbled, feeling his voice get small. "He's very smart... but he's in love with that cop man. Bertolt... he seems very fascinated by your work. The way you dismember bodies, and place them like Judge Nicholas... He talked about the case to me."

            "Is that so?" a smile played on the figure's face, now identified as the killer."I thought so... Bertolt is very smart. I hope he will come to me soon enough... But there's something I still need to do. Bertolt is too tied down. He is too preoccupied with a simple pointless life. He has started to dumb down, started to form to living trapped in a selfish box like every other useless human being... Chained down by life. I need to free him. Break those chains. If I must go this far, I will. But first, before I do that, I'll free you too."

            Jean looked to the man silently. His throat felt dry. "You... you will?" he asked, terrified to believe in a promise.

            "Of course. You have been so obedient. I will do what you want me to do. I will find the person who killed Marco. I'm sure they think like me. You have no need to think about them anymore. There is just something you need to do for me. One last thing."

            "Anything, of course, whatever you want." Jean looked down at himself, and back up to the figure in front of him.

            The killer settled in front of Jean, their hair glowed with moonlight, and their hand reached out to Jean, picking him up gracefully. They spoke with quiet affection, and told him a very detailed plan. Jean felt fear strike his heart, he was not sure he could live up to such an expectation. Jean also filled with determination, because he knew the killer in front of him had offered him so much, and he had to return the favour. So the figure told him what he needed to do. And he knew not to fear it, no matter how scared he was. Jean knew nothing bad would happen to him, as long as he returned to the killer. His mind was slow, and hesitated, in a daze of losing his high, he looked back up, his mind slowly clicking together, and he bowed his head, complying to his request. The killer stood, facing the sky for a moment, and Jean gathered the courage to ask a question.

            "I... I know we've been working together for a while... but... who... who are you?" Jean mumbled. "What's your name?"

            "My name?" the killer looked down at Jean. A smile drew on their face.

            And the killer answered‒


	6. Worried Sick

 

"Bertolt, what's up? Is something wrong?" Reiner's voice came through clearly, and Bertolt settled down on the couch, twisting his fingers into the cord on the phone.

 

            "Hi Reiner... I'm sorry to bother. I... I've just been wondering. Erwin's shift finished at one, and it's already three in the morning... He isn't home yet." Bertolt explained quietly, and shifted his knees to his chest.

 

            "What? Are you sure?" Reiner asked, he sounded a little surprised.

 

            "Yes. I've been waiting... I'm sorry I just remembered that you have the third shift, so I thought I'd call the department..." Bertolt rubbed his forearms awkwardly. "I haven't heard from either Mike or Erwin. They handle second shift right? I'm sorry for the bother."

 

            "Don't apologize, it's fine Bertolt." Reiner dismissed his words and nodded. "Ah- give me a second. Sasha!" Reiner turned to yell at his partner. "The other line is ringing, I need you to answer it!" Reiner settled back down, holding the phone close. "I'm sorry Bertolt we've been so busy since the Trost police department went on strike... It's some bullshit. Look I'll try look around, give me a few minutes." Bertolt sighed softly, and settled on the couch, adjusting his socks. Reiner's voice left him for a few moments and he could hear Sasha talking in the background on the phone. Reiner returned to the phone, his voice evident that he had run off somewhere.

 

            "Erwin and Mike's police car is still here. Erwin's car is still in the back I didn't notice it earlier." Reiner explained, giving a soft exhale. "Mike's car isn't here though... I don't know what happened."

 

            "Didn't they leave a note or anything?" Bertolt asked feebly.

 

            "I didn't see one... I'm sorry Bertolt I don't know where Erwin might be."

 

            "No it's okay.. I'm sorry for bothering you." Bertolt replied, trying not to let out a sigh.

 

            "I'm sure Erwin is fine. Maybe you should try give Mike's home a call?" Reiner suggested.

 

            "I already tried. Mike lives alone, and no one is answering... He might be asleep, so I left him a message. I'd hate to bother him after just getting off work." Bertolt explained. "And I'm sorry for bothering you now. I know it's probably been very busy."

 

            "It's okay. Good luck to you, and don't worry okay Bertolt? Erwin is very mature. I'm sure he's fine." Reiner replied calmly.

 

            "Thank you..." Bertolt replied. "I'll try to relax. I'm sure Erwin is fine. Good bye Reiner."

 

            "Good bye Bertolt. Oh, and Merry Christmas."

 

            Bertolt smiled slightly, nodding his head to no one. "Merry Christmas."

 

            Reiner hung up quietly and Bertolt let out a long sigh. It had been a few months since the Judge Nicholas case, and the city seemed to have forgotten about it. Annie was right, the case turned cold quickly. Luckily no new dismemberment cases came up, so it seemed to be mostly positives. Now that it was the middle of December the city was busy with posters of Christmas sales and lights decorating the trees of parks. Snow fell lightly, and the sun would melt it away in the day time, turning the road slick and icy. There had been a few accidents, but nothing major. Everything had settled down to a normal sort of city. As if a violent murder had not happened only two months ago.

 

            The police team of the Trost district were infamous for going on strike during the holiday seasons. Constantly wanting a raise for their work, though most would agree they were the laziest team around. They did nothing to help the ghettos, and almost never responded to calls that weren't in the main city. The Karanese police department had been backed up with Trost district calls and had to balance two cities problems which had been putting a lot of stress on the whole team. Bertolt did not want to bother them any more than he already was, but this had been a first for him.

 

            Erwin always came home as soon as possible, and he never left his car behind. Maybe he was with Mike? But what could they be doing? Bertolt tried not to let his mind wander. Mike and Erwin were only friends.. and they wouldn't go out and do anything rash. Bertolt couldn't help the idea's that flood his mind. Bertolt sat for a few minutes, the phone in his hand before he placed it on the receiver and looked around. The time had passed slowly for Bertolt, and he checked the clock again. It was still only three in the morning. Erwin's shift had ended two hours ago. Bertolt walked around the living room, the radio was on to keep him company. The streetlamps drowned the darkness in bright orange light. People drifted back and forth on the streets, disappearing in the lights like strange moving photographs. A few cars passed by. Where would Erwin be if he didn't have his car with him?

 

            Bertolt sighed softly, and stepped back over to the phone. He knew one other man that might have a clue as to what was going on. So he settled on the couch, bringing his knees to his chest so he could play with his socks, and called Corporal Levi. Only two rings and the phone was picked up.

 

            "Hello?" a very dream-like voice came to the phone, feminine and soft. Bertolt relaxed so he didn't sound so serious.

 

            "I'm sorry to bother you so late in the night miss... is, is Corporal Levi there?" Bertolt asked, clearing his throat a bit.

 

            "Mhn, of course, give me a second..." the woman's voice drifted away, and Bertolt could hear the soft cooing of a voice. "Levi? Honey... there's someone on the phone. He's asking for you..." Bertolt realised the woman must've been Levi's wife, the one Erwin had talked about. A young woman named Petra.

 

            "Who?" came a response. Levi's voice was very quiet, it didn't sound like he had even been asleep at all. The phone shifted slightly.

 

            "Who is this?" Petra asked softly, her voice still drowned in sleep.

 

            "My name is Bertolt Hoover. I live with Erwin Smith." Bertolt explained, keeping his knees close to himself. The phone shifted again.

 

            "It's Bertolt." Petra soothingly whispered. It seemed like she had heard his name before. Bertolt assumed perhaps Levi talked about Erwin as Erwin talked of Levi? Another voice came on, this one obviously Levi.

 

            "Bertolt?" He asked. "Is something wrong?" Levi seemed to want to get to the point.

 

            "I'm so sorry to bother you. It's just... Erwin is missing. He hasn't come home. It's been two hours since his shift ended." Bertolt bit his lip, hesitating to add detail, trying to be as quick as possible. "His car is still at the police department, but Mike's isn't... I... I'm just worried. I don't know if something happened... or if he's out doing something... I... I'm sorry, I just was hoping you might know something."

 

            "I don't know a thing. I've been asleep." Levi responded. "Relax. Erwin isn't someone to do anything rash."

 

            "I... I know he isn't." Bertolt replied. "Which is why I'm getting so worried. This isn't normal. He's always home on time. I... I don't want to make this a big deal... I'm trying not to think of anything bad. But if he got into an accident or something like that... I'm sorry-"

 

            "Stop apologising." Levi cut off. "If you're worried you should be making a big deal of it. So go ahead and bug people. What do you know so far?"

 

            "Erwin left his car at the station... The police car is there too. I... I guess he might be with Mike. They didn't leave a note or anything." Bertolt started to explain. "I've been trying to keep to myself, I don't want to make it an issue, but Erwin has never done something like this..."

 

            "Well, Right now you can't do anything about it. Just assume that he's a grown ass man and can handle himself. Wait until tomorrow morning. What you need to do is relax. I know it's hard, but stressing out is going to make it worse. Relax, and try not to over think it." Levi responded calmly and shifted around. "Do you want me to call Mike?"

 

            "I already did. He's not answering." Bertolt mumbled softly.

 

            "Not a surprise... He's got bad hearing." Levi remarked before sighing softly. "Just relax for now, and try to sleep. Erwin was in the military, he knows how to take care of himself."

 

            "I... I've been trying to tell myself, it's just so hard to..." Bertolt sighed and bit his lip. "I trust him, I do. I just don't know what's going through his head right now..."

 

            "You shouldn't have to know what's going on in his head." Levi replied. "You're over-thinking it. The best thing to do right now is go to bed. Staring at the clock is not going to help you."

 

            Bertolt felt like the man was reading his mind, but he assumed Levi too had days where he could not stop worrying. He decided to take the older man's advice, and settled back in his chair.

 

            "Okay. Thank you. I'm sorry for bothering you." Bertolt added.

 

            "Stop apologising." was all Levi said before he hung up.

 

            Bertolt sighed to himself, looking around. He checked the clock, watched outside, watched the door, cleaned the kitchen, made the bed again, adjusted the heater, and eventually curled up on the couch, wrapping a soft wool blanket around himself. Bertolt tried to lay down, setting some pillows up, listening to the radio ramble on until he finally drifted a few times. His worries continued to come forward, and Bertolt sighed softly, wishing he could stop his brain from thinking. It was mental torture. Bertolt shut his eyes for a few moments, breathing in and out quietly.

 

            It was pointless. He sat upright, hugging his knees to his chest. Bertolt wrapped the blanket around his body, looking down at his socks. Bertolt decided not to bother any more policemen. They were swamped with work, and Levi was probably irritated already after he had bothered him in his sleep. Bertolt drummed his fingers on the table for a few seconds, before he finally gave in, and on impulse, called someone who would be willing to hear him vent.

 

            "Hello...?" Bertolt asked once the phone was picked up. "Mom...?"

 

            "Hello honey!" came a very sweet sounding voice. Bertolt sighed softly, and tucked his feet in a bit, settling back. Bertolt's mother lived a good distance away, enough to separate time zones.  He knew now would be early morning in the farm country, somewhere that Bertolt had grown up in.

 

            "What's going on baby, are you okay?" Bertolt's mother asked sweetly. Bertolt could imagine her sitting by the dinner table, the sun still rising and her feet up, knees to her chest. Bertolt was like her in a lot of ways. And he was happy to say that she was very close to him, even after he confessed that he was gay. His mother was still a little confused as to how 'being gay' worked, but she never doubted him, or rejected him, something Bertolt had been afraid of.

 

            "I'm good ma... I... I'm sorry I'm bothering you so early." Bertolt replied soothingly.

 

            "You never bother me." she dismissed. "What's wrong? You're up really early for the city. Isn't it still night?"

 

            "Yeah... I... I've been waiting for Erwin to come home." Bertolt explained. "I... I know you can't do anything about it... I just... I'm worried about him. I just wanted to talk to someone..."

 

            "It's okay Bertolt, you can always talk to me." Bertolt smirked a bit. His mother was not the easiest to talk to, she could chat up a storm, but she was understanding. Bertolt's mother was still a very young woman, only in her early thirties. His father however was well in his fifties. Bertolt had learned the story of their meeting, when his father was stationed in post-war Germany in the early fifties. He met a very young, very tall, and acted far too mature for her age. She was so young they married in secrecy and returned to Bertolt's fathers home country. Bertolt had become their only child, a product of two tall loud individuals. Everyone was shocked by his shyness, and introversion. His mother had always been his closest friend, and Bertolt had very few other people in his life. A tight circle of friends and family, that was the only way Bertolt operated.

 

            "I'm sure you've given him a few calls, right? Is there a problem?" Bertolt felt he could now be a bit more honest about how he was feeling. His mother had much more insight, and when it came to Erwin, his mother often joked about their same taste in men, older, mature, and militant trained. Both peaceful in their collectiveness.

 

            "It's just... Erwin has been worried lately... you know, about turning forty. And... I know he's never been very wild or anything like that... But... I don't know what he might be feeling..." Bertolt slowly began to explain his pressing concern. "He's been asking why I still stick by him, when I've got so much more to live for, when I'm still young and able to do what I want to do... And... I'm just worried. I don't know what he's doing..."

 

            "Don't worry sweetie. Your dad was the same way you know." Bertolt could still remember the times in his childhood in which his dad expressed how old he was feeling, and how regretful he was of it. He had done a good job of not bringing it up to Erwin. He was sure that Erwin would not appreciate being compared to his lover's father.

 

            "I remember..." Bertolt replied. "But what exactly... happened? Dad didn't do anything unusual right? He was the same person. He got a little moody, but not sensitive. He was still the same guy. Erwin is like that too. He's too... indomitable. Especially when it comes to being old and things like that..."

 

            "Well..." Bertolt's mother had a tone of voice that made his heart sink. It didn't sound positive in the slightest.

 

            "I didn't tell you because you were still young when your father was... dealing with things. But I should tell you now. He did go out late at night and would come home a little disoriented. He was never drunk or on drugs, and sometimes I worried about him going off with other women... but I learned he would just drive out to the lake- you know the one by your old elementary school? And he'd just sit and think for a long time. Sometimes he'd pass out. That was all he ever did. It gave me a heart attack when he was home late, but when he told me it was a relief. I think if Erwin loves you, don't worry about it. He seems like a nice man. He doesn't want to hurt you." Bertolt breathed a sigh of relief. He thought his mother would go off on a tangent of horrible things his father had done.

 

            "Was it really just that?" Bertolt asked.

 

            "Well, he did buy that fancy car remember? But nothing changed him. He just had to look at his life for a moment, and adjust to everything. I guess it was just... a midlife crisis?" Bertolt could hear his mother chuckling, but he cringed at the thought. He didn't want to use the term midlife crisis on Erwin. It sounded so rude, and negative.

 

            "Oh don't be that way." his mother quickly tacked on. "Your father had a midlife crisis all on his own. It's not a crisis at all really. It's just... you need time to yourself at least once in your life. And sometimes you have to look at your choices and who your friends are, and your lovers and such... And you start to think about what is most important."

 

            Bertolt nodded in silent agreement. "I hope Erwin isn't trying to do that alone. I want to be there for him."

 

            "Thinking through your life isn't really something you do with your boyfriend Bertolt." she replied. "He needs time to himself for this one. Maybe it's what he's doing right now. I haven't known Erwin for too long, but he's a nice man, he's very sweet. And he loves you. I know he does. So don't you worry a bit okay?"

 

            "I know... I panicked at his birthday party when his friend was getting really... close with him. Turns out he wasn't even gay... I make such a fool of myself sometimes." Bertolt felt his cheeks flushing pink, and he could hear his mother's laughter, but it was sympathetic, and not a teasing sort of laugh.

 

            "Oh sweetie, we all get jealous sometimes. It's a good thing, as long as it doesn't make you possessive. It just means you don't want to lose him. And Bertolt, you're a very shy boy-" the woman stopped herself. "I can't call you a boy. You're a man. But you're still as shy as you were in your youth.. Just remember to say what you feel. And if you get angry, you have to let it go."

 

            "I remember mom. I always let it go." Bertolt had become a master of letting things go. To the point of memory gaps in his head. He had never spoken up as a child, never spoken out. Even his mother had learned of the severity of his trait.

 

            "I know sweetie. You've always been good. Just try learn from the bad things too. Don't just forget them. Otherwise you learned nothing." she reminded him. Bertolt sighed softly, and nodded his head.

 

            "I'll try not to freak out... Maybe Erwin just needs some time away from me." Bertolt whispered, dropping his head against his knees.

 

            "Don't think of it as he wants to be away from you. He wants to be away from himself. A midlife crisis is not as bad as it sounds... Maybe I ought to have one someday." Bertolt smiled at the joke, giving a soft scoff in reply. "I don't think it'd go well. I'd just buy a lot of shoes, and probably cry about them."

 

            "Hopefully that won't happen soon." Bertolt replied, and tucked the blanket around himself. "Thank you... I'll try to talk with Erwin in the morning."

 

            "You catch up on sleeping city boy." she huffed, and Bertolt laughed again softly.

 

            "Have a good day mom." Bertolt added.

 

            "And have a nice night." she responded and hung up first.

 

            Bertolt gave a sharp sigh. He always sought comfort in his mother's advice, but he knew better than to assume she would give him any idea on where Erwin was. Bertolt laid back on the couch, curling his feet in under the blanket, trying to let it cover his whole body. At least the conversation had given him some peace of mind. He collected himself as best he could. Everyone was confident in Erwin's maturity, and his love for Bertolt. Why did he doubt him even for a moment? He would never do something extreme. Bertolt felt guilty for not trusting Erwin.

 

            Slowly tucking himself into the blanket he pulled the couch pillow close, trying to keep an empty head. A soft breeze drifted in, cold, but not freezing. It was gentle and calming. Bertolt let out a sigh. His eyelids felt heavy, and worrying had gotten him all worked up and sweaty. He knew the others were right. He needed to sleep, just relax and wait for Erwin to come home. The minutes so far had drawn on like hours, and Bertolt knew his worrying had gotten the better of him. His shoulders ached at the position he was in, but he didn't mind it. He didn't want to go to bed just yet,  not without Erwin wrapped around him. His eyelids felt heavy, and his head lolled back before dropping on the pillow. His eyes stayed half-lidded, and his head felt like lead.  He inhaled deeply, and trying to breathe out all the bad thoughts. It was no such luck.

 

* * *

 

            Bertolt awoke groggily, his rest still plagued with thoughts of Erwin and what he could be feeling. His mind started to drift towards his childhood, when he was worried for his father's sake, he would wait late into the night, staring at the ceiling. Bertolt lived in a farmland area, where the whole world always seemed quiet for a moment. The days his father had started to become distant, and think more of his old age, Bertolt tried to stay up and wait for him to come home. Most nights he would fall asleep before his father arrived home, but some nights, he would catch him slipping in, a dark look on his face, and nothing to say. Bertolt took advantage of the fact that his father would not reprimand him for being up so late, and stayed by his side. Though he was not a cook like his mother, but he would try his best to make dinner for his father when he would arrive home at ungodly hours. Usually it was cereal. As a child Bertolt was fairly versatile, and he was proud to be able to reach the third shelf where the bowls were and the top shelf of the refrigerator where the milk was. Bertolt had not forgotten those meaningless nights, where all he wanted was his father to smile again. Just a real smile.

 

            Bertolt shot up from the couch. Perhaps he could do that for Erwin. It sounded childish, and perhaps not very helpful. But he would make a nice meal, and wait for him. Then maybe they could just have a little talk about how he was feeling. Bertolt knew he had to be just a bit more sympathetic to Erwin, even if he didn't fully understand. Quickly, he started to clean the house, vacuuming the rugs and cleaning the kitchen. He started to organize the fridge, make up the room, do the laundry, hang the clothes by the heater. The snow was still falling, and had rendered their wire clothesline useless. Bertolt started to clean up the bathroom, organising the soaps and setting his more personal lingerie out on the nightstand. He promised himself to help Erwin feel a little bit younger tonight, once he came home.

 

            Bertolt stepped into the shower, deciding he needed to make himself look a little more presentable. He started to groom his hair through, washing his body thoroughly and scrubbing himself down for extra measure. His skin felt irritated by the sudden focused treatment, but he knew it would go away. The air was cold when he exited, and Bertolt towelled himself off and started to get dressed to leave. Black pants, black shirt, dark grey trench coat. Nothing out of the ordinary. Bertolt pulled his shoulder bag on, and pulled out his notepad. He slowly scribbled out a list of things that would be needed. More coffee, sugar cubes, maybe something fancy for breakfast. Bertolt returned to the kitchen and the small foyer where his shoes were and started to slip them on. As much as he didn't want his plans ruined, he hoped to run into Erwin on the way to the store. Perhaps they could talk, and Bertolt could ask him about all the things he liked. A sudden sense of confidence came over Bertolt.

 

            He wasted no time buying the things he needed at the store. It was all very fast, sort of blurred, and Bertolt could feel the ache in his feet from walking around so quickly and trying not to stop for a moment. Everything needed to be ready before Erwin came home. He sighed softly, realising he was back by the jewellery store. Bertolt looked around at the place, he was still surprised that they were still in business. The jewellery must've had some sort of insurance if the store could survive such a robbery.

 

            Bertolt sighed softly. Nevermind the store, he told himself, he had more pressing issues. He looked down a few stores to the small bakery he had often visited. Krista was working early in the morning. Bertolt could easily remember Erwin's love of quiche for breakfast and torte. Slipping in quietly Bertolt set his bag down on the counter. There was very few patrons today, most grabbing a sweet and coffee and quickly leaving.

 

            "Good morning Krista." Bertolt called to the woman who was busying herself with making an espresso. Krista twitched to life, looking to Bertolt.

 

            "Oh Bertolt, I thought I saw you pass by." she set the coffee down, walking over to him. Instead she got out from behind the counter, and her face dropped to a very graven expression. "How has Erwin been? Is he okay?"

 

            "Of course. Well... I guess I'm not too sure. I guess he needs time to himself. He has been a little distant lately." Bertolt admitted, hugging his bags a bit.

 

            "T-time to himself?" Krista asked, she looked puzzled. "I thought of all time he'd need you right now."

 

            "Need me? Why?" Bertolt twitched a little at the thought. What was that supposed to mean?

 

            "Bertolt... where is Erwin right now?" Krista asked. "Do you know?"

 

            "I... I don't know." Bertolt admitted. "He's been gone all night. I was going buy him something sweet to eat for when he got home."

 

            "Bertolt..." Krista looked very grave, her lips pressed together thinly. "Have you read the paper?" the way she spoke made Bertolt terrified. The correlation between Erwin and her question sparked a million questions in his head.

 

            "What... why? What happened?" Bertolt hesitated, trying to piece his words together.

 

            "H-here, give me a sec-" Krista walked back into the kitchen and pulled out a newspaper, flipping it open to the front cover. The story featured on the front had a picture of two men wearing police uniforms, and though the picture was in black and white, there was an evident pool of blood around them both. The more Bertolt looked, the more he could see a very obvious blonde in the picture, clutching his chest, a very blank gaze on his face. Next to him was a taller man, curled up on his knees and looked like he was almost crying over the other. Bertolt felt the bag in his hand slip and crash to the floor. The headline was bold, and in capital letters.

 

**LOCAL POLICEMEN, MIKE ZAKARIUS & ERWIN SMITH, GUNNED DOWN IN VIOLENT TROST MASSACRE. MASS MURDERER STILL ON THE LOOSE.**

 


	7. Breathe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When breathing seemed to be the easiest thing to do.

_  
A few hours ago_

* * *

 

"Hello? Karanese Police Station?" Mike lifted the phone to his face,  brushing his hair back slightly.

            "Yes, this the switchboard operator for Trost emergency response teams." a young female voice responded. "We had an emergency call down in the Lower Main Street of Trost." Mike grimaced at the words. The ghettos of Trost were usually pretty quiet in the holiday times, so he frowned at the thought of having to go out there.

            "Well my shift is about to end, could you possibly wait for third shift to respond?" Mike asked, hoping the compromise would be in his benefit.

            "Well, it sounded dire. There was a woman calling for a noise complaint, and she called again saying that there might have been a murder."

            "Might?" Mike didn't like the sound of that.

            "Well, the woman was hard to understand, she said there was blood everywhere. It sounded dire. I'd think it'd be best to get a response team out there as soon as possible."

            "Look, no offense ma'am, but you know the kind of people that come out of that place. They talk all kinds of nonsense. Are you sure the woman was serious?" Mike asked, checking the clock again. He cursed himself inwardly, if only he had left just a few minutes before one then maybe this wouldn't have happened.

            "She sounded serious. Sir you can wait to send a response unit from third shift but I don't know what good it will do. I've been trying to call back but it seems the phone is not ringing on the other side. I think the phone line was cut while she was talking."

            Mike put together what might have happened considering the factors.

            "It's probably just a few druggies dicking around... I'll go check it out. Where's the call from?"

            "A payphone outside of Sunshine Apartments, Lower Main Street." The woman replied calmly.

            "All right, I'll go check it out." Mike responded and shoved the phone down into the receiver. He gave a long winded sigh, brushing his fingers through his hair.

            "Damn. So close." Mike mumbled and shifted out of his chair, unpinning his badge and shoving it in his pocket.

            "What is it?" Erwin asked, walking back into the room, setting a cup of coffee down.

            "I thought we were going to be done early. Noise complaint up in Trost. Lower Main of all places." Mike sighed again, voicing his irritation a little bit more, now that Erwin was in the room. "We better go take a look."

            "In Trost? That'll take an hour to get there." Erwin remarked, bringing the cup to his lips and taking a drink of coffee. "Should the third shift handle it?"

            "Yeah I asked if it could wait, they said it sounded a little urgent. I got all guilty and agreed. Don't worry about it Erwin. You can go home, it's almost end shift anyway. Reiner and Sasha will be in soon enough." Mike replied with a sigh. "I can do this by myself."

            "No, you're my partner." Erwin remarked. "I should go with you."

            Mike decided not to argue."All right, if you say so. I'm taking my car then, it's faster than that piece of shit." Mike gestured to the police car garage, pulling his keys out of the desk drawer. "I don't want to waste more time coming back here and fumbling around with more paperwork nonsense. Let's just hope that we can cut this trip short and go home."

            "Agreed." Erwin remarked and folded his arms. "I'll write a note to the third shift." Erwin pulled out a bit of scratch paper, and started to write down a little note to the others if they wondered why they were not there. He set it down on the other cops desk and set his pen down, looking to Mike.  
            "What was the call about?" he asked, following Mike out the door.

            "Something about a noise complain." Mike tread the car, pulling his coat on. Snow whirled around as the door opened giving a rush of cold air to greet the two. Erwin adjusted his scarf, and shoved his hand in his pockets. The cold had started to get pretty severe, but something about it was still beautiful. The snow drifted and faded in the orange light of the streetlamps and it looked as if they fell from nowhere in the dark black sky.

            "Damn it's cold..." Mike grumbled, rubbing his nose. He hated when his nose got cold more than anything else. Dried mucus was the worst. "Well, the woman also said something about might be a murder."

            "Might?" Erwin asked, stopping in the middle of the road. "Are you sure we should take this lightly?"

            "Oh come on. It's Lower Main. It's probably some junkie who popped too much acid." Mike remarked, slipping into the driver seat. Erwin entered the other side of the car, wiping the ice that had accumulated on the windshield and side windows. Mike turned the heater on in hope of keeping the cabin of the car warm. He had a well built truck that had seen a few years of work and life, but it still ran like a dream. Erwin settled in, buckling his own belt and relaxing a bit trying to mull over what was happening.

            "You never know." Erwin remarked. "Bertolt went there a few months ago... It's not really that bad. Just people who got the shitty end of life."

            "It's bad Erwin." Mike remarked. "Trust me. He saw it for five minutes, you get a little understanding of it, you live there, you start to lose hope in good people."

            "Perhaps." Erwin shrugged his shoulders, trying not to debate it too much. It was something he found a little trivial to debate.

            Time passed slowly in the night. Erwin felt a bit of guilt for not calling Bertolt ahead of time, but he was understanding. He was still very busy with work, while Bertolt had not been. His lover had been spending many days at home, cleaning and redecorating, and putting up Christmas lights and a small tree just to have something there. Erwin had never felt more grateful to have him, he had been very sympathetic to his fears and his whining. Erwin had quickly regained his usual composure of a stoic, calm man. It was just nice to have someone to turn when he couldn't be so calm.

            Snow flew by like projectiles and Mike picked up speed in the car. The roads had been icy, but Mike was a good driver, and he was used to the snowy city. Still Erwin tensed at the little resistance he felt in the car's wheels, and tried not to comment. Mike turned the radio on, just trying to have some noise for the car ride. It was around half an hour before Mike decided to speak, and by then Erwin was already drifting to a near sleep.

            "You're real lucky you know. To have Bertolt." Mike started. Erwin straightened up and turned, his eyes narrow.

            "Yeah... I know." Erwin responded calmly, unsure of what Mike meant.

            "I'm not trying to start anything, jeez." Mike quickly added. "I'm just saying. It's hard to find someone who's committed to a relationship... He's real quiet though. From what I've seen of him. How'd you two even meet?"

            "To be honest?" Erwin turned his head. "Hanji set me up."

            "Really?" Mike scoffed, a slight grin on his face. "Hanji did that? How'd she meet Bertolt? And how'd that go down?"

            "Well. Hanji was a friend with one of the college professors. And they talked one day. And the conversation shifted to his students... And eventually to Bertolt. So Hanji met him, and they talked a little about things, and then that lead to a relationship discussion... I wasn't made aware of the date until the night before. But apparently Bertolt had been told weeks in advance." Erwin replied, running his fingers through his hair. This story was one he remembered well, but not one really liked to recite. There was nothing romantic about their first date.

            "So it was all just fate huh?" Mike remarked, his hands gripping the leather steering wheel loosely. "And what about the date?"

            "If you believe in that sort of thing." Erwin shrugged, folding his arms. "The date was... a little less than romantic. I told him I had no intention of really dating. That I just wanted to live all by myself for the rest of my life, move to Vegas, start gambling and drinking and die all alone."

            "You always were real cheery guy." Mike replied, grinning a bit. "Well that was a shitty thing to say on a first date."

            "Trust me I know. I was just having a bad time." Erwin added on, sighing a bit.

            "What'd he say? Bertolt. Can't really imagine he said anything good." Mike inquired.

            "Bertolt said he'd help me pack up and leave." Erwin rolled his eyes, folding his arms as Mike snorted a laugh.

            "Not an ounce of sympathy for you, huh? Maybe that's what you deserved."

            "Thanks Mike."

            "Oh come on. I was just kidding. You were real moody back when Bertolt started dating you. I'm surprised he managed."

            "Well I couldn't help being moody when my mother died." Erwin scowled a bit, his lips pursed. Mike didn't seem deterred, he was well aware of Erwin's life, and his struggles. "I just wanted to be alone at the time, and Hanji was out playing matchmaker for me."

            "Damn lucky she did." Mike added. "Imagine what a miserable moody gambler you'd be in Vegas." Erwin rolled his eyes, he could tell Mike was starting to tease him now.

            "Bertolt isn't exactly emotionless himself. He got really angry with me on my birthday." Erwin interjected. "He thought Levi was hitting on me."

            Mike snorted. "Levi? Are you kidding?" Erwin shook his head, and Mike couldn't help having a goofy grin on his face.

            "He was really jealous... but even then he tried to hide it. Bertolt isn't very good at expressing his feelings. He usually just let's things go. Even when people screw him over. Not a rebellious bone in his body. I guess I should be happy for that, but it's nice to be reminded that he cares."

            "It's always good to know your partner is jealous." Mike tacked on.

            "How is that a good thing?"

 "Let's be honest, you'd be pretty offended if he wasn't jealous over you at some point." he remarked. Erwin mulled over the meaning and nodded slowly to him. He had to agree, it was nice to know that Bertolt got jealous. He seemed very passive, so it was nice to be wanted by Bertolt.

            "So he's the bottom right?" Erwin narrowed his gaze as Mike asked, and he could see the man was just trying to irritate him.

            "Shut up Mike." Erwin asked.

            "Aw come on, I ought to know. You and I used to be together. Does Bertolt even know that?" Mike asked, leaning in a bit to see Erwin's reaction. Instead the other man just looked right back at Mike, a cold blue gaze.

            "I'm trying to forget that myself to be honest." Erwin replied. Mike tensed and looked to him with a scowl.

            "Stab me in the heart why don't you?" Mike replied, scoffing a bit.

            "I know you're not that sensitive." Erwin replied. "I'd rather put it behind me though. I want to be with Bertolt for a long time..." He hesitated, but added. "I think for the rest of my life. He's been really patient and kind. Sometimes I wonder if I even deserve it."

            "You don't." Mike replied.

            "Thanks." Erwin replied sardonically, and leaned back, sighing softly. He looked around at the empty streets, glad to know that at least the ride would probably be smooth on the way out. He sighed lifting his hands a little closer to the heater. "You're right though..." he agreed. "Bertolt probably deserves better..."

            "Ah, shut up. Don't do the pity thing with me." Mike disagreed. "He loves you, and you love him. Not much more to that. You'll never be perfect."

            "I know, I just feel like maybe I should be a bit better to him. And maybe I should get a better job so I can see him more often. I keep him up at night waiting and I don't want to do that anymore. I feel like I can't help it though. I don't want to consider myself the man of the house, but I suppose that's the order of our relationship." Erwin turned to him, scowling. "Don't take that the wrong way."

            "So he does bottom." Mike instead responded the way Erwin didn't want him to. He chuckled at Erwin's depressed sigh and grinned at him. "Lucky. Not enough tall strong men that want to take it in the ass. What I wouldn't give-"

            "Don't even think about it." Erwin growled.

            "I'm not!" Mike defended, looking to Erwin with a serious gaze. "I don't have the best of luck looking for partners though. I'd like someone tall and strong too, but it's all the dainty short ones that want a tall man. You try find another someone like that though. Always end up with some girly-boy. Kind of creepy if you ask me."

            "We all have different preferences." Erwin objected. "I like Bertolt for more than just his looks."

            "Well fuck, if you put it that way I sound like an asshole. I just want another strong guy to be with you know? I haven't really found anyone worth settling down with, or spending more than a night with actually."

            "Well you haven't exactly been the... faithful type." Erwin sneered a little at the thought, and Mike scoffed in distain.

            "That was an accident- I can't believe you. Don't even bring that up again." Mike retorted, shaking his head.

            "We didn't ever date for six  _days_  and you were sleeping around." Erwin replied, his arms folded. "I'm having trouble convincing you would clean your act up."

            "I can't believe you.. That was an accident. I was drunk and I was stupid." Mike retorted. "He came on to me first. All I remember was getting in my car and thinking 'I can't drive like this', and then I woke up in bed with him."

            "So you want me to blame him?" Erwin replied, turning his head.

            "I can't believe you are still on about this. That was twenty years ago!" Mike snapped.

            "You didn't even apologize." Erwin remarked. Mike slapped his hand down on the dashboard.

            "That's it huh? Well I didn't think at the time, that you would be a whiny bitch when you turned forty. And that you would actually bring this up. I didn't even think that I'd be dating you in the first place, if that's what you want to call it." Mike grit his teeth a bit and sighed, rolling his eyes. "I'm sorry. I should have been a little bit nicer to you. I don't even know how we managed to stay friends after that bullshit."

            "Because if I we didn't make up, I would have killed you." Erwin shot back, and leaned back in his seat. "And I forgive you." Erwin added his words almost as angry as Mike was when he apologised. The tension got thicker the longer they said nothing, so Erwin gave a disappointed sigh.

            "I'm too tired for this." Erwin started, and Mike nodded in agreement. "I don't want to argue with you right now. All I seem to do is argue with people... It's Christmas for fucks sake. I just feel like I need to... make amends, or something."

            "Most old people try to make amends for their sins before they die." Mike gibed. Erwin rolled his eyes and sighed.

            "You're older than me, I don't even know what you're talking about." Erwin commented, and turned his head, gauging where they were. It seemed they were just around the spaghetti junction outside of Trost, a few cars driving to and fro, but nothing more than a few. Snow was still building on the sides of the road and on the lamp posts. He turned to Mike and looked down at himself, his hands were pale from the cold, and he sighed softly.

            "I just... I guess I am trying to make amends. I just want all the crazy things to be over. Maybe I can take Bertolt and just move far away from all this someday. I don't want to keep him up at night like this, and I don't want to keep working the same job. I don't know what I'm thinking.. I would like to spend the rest of my life with him."

            Mike didn't say much for some time, but he nodded his head, if not in agreement, in an understanding way.

            "I want something like that too. So you should just go for it before it's too late." Mike remarked. "You and I don't have all the time in the world."

            "I know... I got him something. I was going to wait until Christmas to... to do it. But I don't even know." Mike looked a little perplexed as Erwin's hand drifted down to his pants pocket, and pulled out a small red box. He turned his head a bit, knowing the road wasn't one he needed to keep his eye on desperately, and could see clearly that Erwin had on him, a small red jewellery box. It was just the size for a ring, and he knitted his brow together, looking to Erwin. Erwin immediately shoved it back in his pocket and sighed.

            "I know it sounds stupid. We can't get married or anything like that, unless we go someplace like Amsterdam or Denmark... But hell, maybe we could just exchange rings, just for ourselves or something. It doesn't have to be anything more than that." Erwin explained, mulling over his plan, and starting to doubt it. "I don't even know if Bertolt would like that."

            "I think he'd love it." Mike reassured. "That's... Huh, I just didn't think you wanted to settle down so quick. He's sweet but... You know, he's kind of young."

            "I've asked him... I don't think he intends on leaving me. And I don't intend on it either." Mike could see Erwin fiddling with the ring box in his pocket, his body shifted back as if he was trying to make himself small. "I just want it to be that way. He's very important to me. Bertolt has put up with a lot, and I just want him to be happy. And I guess if I'm important to him... It counts for something."

            "You've really been thinking this through huh?" Mike asked, tilting his head back. "Damn... I really need to settle down too. I want something like that for once in my life."

            "It's a two way street Mike, just remember that." Erwin huffed, and pulled the box out again. Mike jerked his head back, looking to Erwin, and smirked a bit.

            "Can I see it?" Mike asked, turning his head.

            "It's nothing special. It's just a gold band..." Erwin hesitated, clutching the box tightly in his fingers.

            "Just show me it. Stop being shy." Mike huffed, and turned his head, reaching out to Erwin. Despite the hesitation, Erwin set the box in Mike's hand. Smiling, he flipped open the red box, peering inside. Crushed black velvet pillowed the simple gold ring. It was shiny, a bright gold with no decoration. Something simple. Mike chuckled, and shut the box, looking over it.

            "How cute." he chided, and Erwin rolled his eyes. "Ah I'm not teasing you. I just never thought you'd be... all dewy-eyed and sappy. It's adorable, and it's making me depressed."

            "Shut up and give me back the box." Erwin scowled.

            "Yeah, yeah, whatever." Mike handed the box back and he watched Erwin protectively place it in his pocket, keeping his hand on it. Mike looked back to the road, keeping his hand tight on the wheel. "I know I never chastised you for dating someone so young... but, do you think Bertolt is ready for that? He's just... I guess when I was his age I was doing stupid shit, and acting out."

            "Bertolt isn't you Mike. He's smart. And mature. I don't think he really wants to act out and do crazy things. I guess it has to do with how you raise your kids up. Bertolt's parents are real nice. Not like my mom..." Erwin hesitated, thinking back to his youth.

            "Ugh. Your mom made  _me_  want to die in the army." Mike huffed. He twitched a bit, turning to him with a smirk. "Sorry, that was mean."

            "That's why I joined the military. I wanted to die. I don't care." Erwin replied, shrugging his shoulders.

            "Instead you ended up with a bunch of assholes like me Hanji and Levi." Mike retorted. Erwin narrowed his eyes, and smirked a bit.         

            "Thankfully." he added, and folded his arms.

            Mike smirked a bit, but it faded quickly. The two entered the lower main street of Trost. This night there was no smoke emitting in the back alleyway. No people mulling about in the middle of the night. No shadows darting in between windows of condemned buildings. Nobody was around. Erwin felt his mood suddenly go sour. A place like this just seemed more unsettling when there wasn't a child staring out a window emptily, or a drug addict twitching and hiding behind the dumpster.

            "Welcome to Trost." Mike huffed, pulling in towards one of the parking stalls outside of the Sunshine apartment complex. No lights were on, except for the streetlamp across the road. Erwin let out a disgruntled sigh, and opened the door, twisting his seatbelt off. Mike stepped out first, and felt his feet hit the snow.

            Something wasn't right. The snow was melted away, and it made a disturbed squelching noise under his feet. Mike pulled out his flashlight strapped to his belt, and looked down at the ground, clicking it on.

            "What the fuck!?" Mike exclaimed and snapped his head to look at Erwin.

            "What?" Erwin asked, looking to him.

            "There's all this blood in the snow." Mike explained, and looked to Erwin, his eyes wide with shock. "Look." Erwin clicked on his flashlight, and sure enough, there was blood in the snow, melting the white powder into a sickly cold brownish-red. Erwin looked around, the blood was marking the ground and trailed into the apartment. There was no bloody footsteps, it wasn't small or subtle, no, what had been dragged must've been a body, something large.

            "Let's fuckin hope these drug addicts hunt deer..." Mike grumbled, and pulled out his gun. Erwin tested the air for a moment. There was something like electricity in the air, and it made the hair on his neck stand up.

            "Where did the call originate from?" Erwin asked.

            "Payphone. Somewhere outside." Mike explained. He shot his ray of light around, and pointed towards the apartment. "There's a payphone over there, by the stairwell." Erwin nodded and stepped over, the blood still making a noise the combined with the crunching of fresh snow, and a squelched under his boots. He clicked on the light, and looked over the phone.

            "Someone cut the phone off of the box." Erwin explained, flashing the light on it. There was wires severed over where the phone would be, and to make it worse, whoever had vandalized the phone hand ripped out the guts of the phone box, wires splayed all over the ground, severed in half just for good measure. Some of the live ones still sparked and buzzed in the silence. "Someone really didn't want any phone calls."

            "I think I found the phone." Mike called, and beckoned Erwin forward. He was not fully prepared for what Mike was about to show him.

            On the ground near Mike's side of the car, there was pools of blood smeared back and forth from dragging, and in the snow was a black phone receiver- still clutched by a severed hand. It was a small hand, like one of a young adult or teenager, and now cut from the wrist, blood had dried long ago around the cut.

            "Well I found the caller. Now where's the rest of her?" Mike asked, and swung his flashlight around, looking at the dragging marks and blood spatters. Erwin looked around, and froze, turning to Mike.

            "Did you hear that?" Erwin asked, turning his head.

            "Hearing problems." Mike replied, pointing to his ears. Erwin wasn't entirely sure how the body worked, but he remembered Mike had an exceptional nose, while a lack of good hearing. He nodded and pointed to the back of the apartment complex, where the alleyway was.

            "I hear someone." Erwin explained. He stepped forward, keeping his flashlight close and his other hand ghosting over the gun still strapped to his hip. "Stay behind me Mike." he explained, and started to walk behind the building. The closer they got, the easier it was to hear. The noise was something of a ringing.

            Standing at the end of the alleyway was a humanoid figure, with a smile that seemed more cat-like. It was hard to see, the streetlamps were so far away, and the buildings were tall in between, so the alleyway had never truly seen light even during the day. At their feet was something Erwin would mistake for a fountain. Spraying dark liquid all over whoever was standing next to it. The figure was dressed in white, a long white trench coat, but the light from the end of the alleyway gave them a heaven-like glow. The fountain continued to shoot dark liquid on their coat. As Erwin came closer, and his flashlight turned down at the fountain, to reveal what it really was.

            A body. Pressurized blood spurting out of the neck; wherever the head was, and spilling brilliant crimson liquid all over the figure. In one hand, now that Erwin could see, was the reflection of a large knife. And in the other; to his horror, was the body's head, held tightly in the figure's hand. The kill was recent, perhaps only moments ago, and that was the noise he was hearing. Now, Erwin could identify the killer.

            "What the fuck..." He mumbled, and reached down, pulling out his gun.

            "Fuck..." came a reply, and he could see there was in fact, a third person, much skinnier, and hiding behind the figure. He looked horrible and scared, and Erwin had a feeling he was mimicking the expression.

            "Don't be afraid..." the killer soothed the other man, and stepped away, their white clothing completely ruined with blood. Erwin could see their glittering eyes, yet he just couldn't bring himself to do anything. The killer had such a look in his eyes, one so ruined by time, and so beautiful at the same time. It felt like he was being looked straight through. And suddenly, Erwin felt a sudden warmth in his arm.

            Red settling on his coat, and he blinked a few times.

            A cut?

            How?

            Erwin looked up to find the killer had made the distance between them in almost a single step, as if he floated over the ground. His knife was now sunken into Erwin's wrist, and a fine pink mist of blood greeted the right side of his face and jacket.

            "You are Erwin Smith, correct?" the voice was so soothing, and so petrifying. Erwin said nothing, just staring at the large expanse of starlight that was the killers eyes.

            "Indeed you are. I see why Bertolt loves you so... Now that I can see you up close. You're very devoted. I'll make this quick, so you don't have to suffer. I know you'll be missed. It just has to be this way."

            The killer knew Bertolt? How? What the hell was going on? Erwin felt dazed when the pain hit, and he gripped his wrist in pain, falling to his knees.

            "Erwin!" the man screaming for him was Mike, and he realised that he had finally sprung to life. The ringing noise of gunshots echoed in his ear and the killer threw themselves back, dropping their head down. Despite the impressive dodging, they proved to be human. Blood splashed from their shoulder as bullets grazed their flesh, one bullet sinking into the area just above the elbow.

            "No!" the man standing by the body screamed, stumbling towards the killer.

            "Jean, calm down." the killer cooed, as if the bullets that grazed him were never there. "People don't die easy anymore..." the killer lifted their arm, but winced, and dropped it. "My arm... It's broken. Jean, you have to kill them... Can you handle killing one more person for me?"

            "I... I can try..." Jean stumbled, and his voice sounded like he was crying. And Erwin started to see a pistol emerge from the skinny Jean's pocket.

            "Good... You're so good Jean... I'm going to have to rest this arm..." The killer dropped the knife on the ground, and calmly walked away, as if everything was just a joke somehow.

            "Stop!" Mike screamed. "You're under arrest!"

            "..." the killer just smiled at Mike.

            "Kill him too."

            Erwin could hear bullets echoing across the alleyway. First Mike, then Jean. Jean screamed and cried, but suddenly there was a sharp pain in Erwin's chest. Bullets ripped through his ribcage, and he could feel his right side getting heavy. Pain hit, and he groaned, gripping his side and finally sliding out his gun. It was pointless. He flopped on the ground, gripping his side. More gunfire. He felt his chest heave, and breathing felt like fire. Mike shouted, and Erwin tried to compose himself. It was just so hard to breathe.

            "Mike..." Erwin mumbled and looked to Mike. Now his partner was twisted on the ground, gripping his legs and shouting a long list of curse words.

            "A-ah... I... I did it..." Jean mumbled, shaking. "I... I don't have any bullets left..."

            "Good... Just leave them be. This was supposed to be quick." the killer cooed. "I'm sorry it had to end this way. Erwin Smith... and Mike Zacharias."

            Erwin's head was spinning, how did that person even know their name? How did they know anything? Erwin groaned and fell on his back. The asphalt was covered in blood-mixed snow, and he panted like a fish out of water. His gun dropped from his hand, it hurt too much. He looked up at the black sky, snow falling into his blonde lashes. Bertolt... how did they know Bertolt?

            "Wait... please..." Erwin coughed.

            "Yes?" the killer's voice echoed across to him, they were so close, but he felt so far. Kneeling over Erwin, he could see their feature, their bright glittering eyes.

            "Bertolt..." Erwin couldn't get his words to connect with his brain.

            "Don't worry. I'll take care of him for you..." the killer spoke so calmly, and they gently laid something on Erwin's chest. Erwin lifted his head, noticing something like a tarot card. Erwin felt everything getting heavier, his arms, his legs. His whole body shuddered as he dropped back. The stars didn't shine tonight, instead it was decorated in snow, gently drifting over his eyelashes. Erwin didn't know much of what was happening. Just a drifting warm feeling, and suddenly it was cold. His hand drifted down to his pants, and he gripped a tiny box, containing a small golden ring. Bertolt. What could he do? What was he supposed to do? Erwin couldn't crawl, he couldn't even breathe. It was so hard to move, and slowly he started to shut his eyes panting softly. Just keep breathing. Just keep breathing. And then he could go see Bertolt again. Just had to keep breathing. He had to tell him everything. He had to tell him how much he loved him. He had to show him the ring. He had to move far away, and live somewhere nice with Bertolt. He just had to keep breathing.

            Just keep breathing.

 


	8. Past Regret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We search for anything when we believe there is nothing left.

           Erwin was dead. He died, and Bertolt thought he was cheating on him. What a horrible person he had been. Krista had to drag him behind the counter and to the kitchen when he burst into tears. He had spent nearly a half hour reading the paper over again and again before he just realised what had happened. Before he could finally let it sink in. Krista hugged him and pet his hair.

            "Bertolt it's okay, please calm down. The paper didn't say they were dead. The paper just said they were shot. Haven't you heard anything from them Bertolt?" Krista tried to comfort him, but it was all in vain. Bertolt had taken in the image of his boyfriend collapsed on the snowy alleyway, covered in blood and bullet wounds.

            Bertolt tried to speak. A weak cry emitted from his mouth. He sobbed, and shuddered. The kitchen staff was staring at him, despite Krista shooing them to go work. It was really hard to fold croissants when someone was bawling in front of the sink area. Krista continued to hug him, grabbing one of the dishrags and dabbing his eyes.

            "It's going to be okay, Bertl." Krista whispered, clasping her fingers over his shoulder and pulling him into a hug. "You have to calm down. We need to call around and ask if he's alive."

            No, Bertolt couldn't bear the thought. No, no, no, he would call and they would tell him he was dead. And Bertolt had been so horrible to him. He had argued and complained on his birthday. How was he supposed to know it would be his last? This wasn't fair. Bertolt had bought him a new box of cigarettes and something special for Christmas. How could he be gone so fast?

            "Come on honey, stand up, come to my office." Krista had to practically drag Bertolt up the small staircase into her office full of tax reports and paperwork for the bakery. He settled in the corner, where Krista wrapped a blanket around him, and set a box of tissues on the side of him. Bertolt knew he was a gross sobbing mess, and he looked hideous when he cried. Face screwed up, bright red radiating from his nose, his cheeks stinging with tears and snot, eyes so red and irritated that he could barely keep them open. Times where he wanted to sink into a hole under the surface of the world and cry until he couldn't any more. Krista kept close, petting his hair, lying that everything would be all right. That things would be okay. That the paper said nothing about them being dead. Just shot a lot. That they had to call around and make sure. Nothing did any good for Bertolt. He knew she didn't know for sure, so he just assumed she was lying.

            The phone started to ring before Krista could start talking about calling people.

            "Bertl, honey just stay here." she whispered. "I'm going to answer the phone." she slowly left him, and walked to the phone, pressing the receiver to her ear and turning her head.

            "Hello?" Krista tried to speak loud enough to drown out Bertolt's crying.

            "Krista Lenz. If that's what you like to call yourself." came a female voice, though it was deep set.

            "Y-yes?" Krista asked, tilting her head.

            "I need to speak to Bertolt. I assume he's in your bakery."

            "Yes... how did you know? Who is this?" Krista asked, looking around.

            "I know everything. And I can't tell you that right now. Just give the phone over to Bertolt. It's important."

            Krista pulled the phone away and set it on the desk. She crawled over to Bertolt and gently patted his knee which was curled up to his chest.

            "Honey? Bertolt it's okay, you need to calm down. Someone called for you. Just relax, you need to speak to them. They said it's important."

            Bertolt couldn't bring himself to stop, but he tried his damndest. He snivelled and sucked in as much mucus as he could, his breathing was so ragged he was panting. Bertolt took a minute or two to get himself together. He slowly got on his knees, even there he was almost as tall as Krista due to his height. He shuffled over to the phone, keeping the blanket on him, and rubbing his irritated face into it.

            "H-hello?" Bertolt stuttered.

            "Do you recognize my voice?" Bertolt realised he could hear Annie's voice. He nodded before realising she couldn't see him.

            "Yeah. A-"

            "Don't say my name!" she growled. "I shouldn't be doing this right now. Bertolt, listen close, I can't say much. Erwin is going to be okay. He's alive."  
            Annie had more to say, but Bertolt gasped loudly and pulled the phone away from his face. He couldn't believe it. Erwin was alive. He was alive. Annie would never lie about such a thing. He had to believe her. A sudden tidal wave of relief wash over him. The worry had made him almost physically sick. He sighed softly, trying to collect himself, and put the phone back to his ear.

            "Oh An-"  
            "Don't say my name!" Annie shouted. "Bertolt, he's alive. At least for now. His surgery started an hour ago, but it should take a few more hours. He's was at the South-eastern hospital between Trost and Karanese. But they took him out to Karanese for surgery. He's under police escort. If you haven't heard from the other's that's why. They aren't allowed to tell anybody."

            "But why?" Bertolt wanted to scream. How dare they do this to him, leave him out of the whole loop. He had to reach the conclusion that they were probably as shocked as him at the moment. But why could they not call him?

            "Because Erwin has become a suspect under the tarot card serial killer."

* * *

 

Bertolt followed Annie's instructions exactly. Just go to the hospital and look for Hanji or one of the other policemen. They had to be in the hospital. Everything was happening so quickly that he ran to the hospital. He lungs felt like lead, but he refused to stop until he got there, perhaps ten blocks away from the bakery. He left everything and ran to the hospital. Annie told him not to approach the nurses or the administrators, they would send him out, or lie that there was no Erwin Smith. Annie told him that the event happened very quickly, and the news got a hold of the story before a paramedic could. Of course the news had decided to start printing papers before actually helping and sending out photographers to capture the scene. In all honesty, Bertolt didn't care about the newspapers stupid move, or the paramedics lateness.

            He just wanted to see Erwin.

            When he entered the hospital  reality caught up with him and he nearly collapsed on the floor in front of them. The whole front desk stared at him for a long moment, and some of the other patients did as well. He slowly climbed up to his feet and gasped silently, trying to get himself back to a sane composition enough to realise a nurse had actually decided to ask him if he was okay.

            "Sir?" the lady had a loud voice. "Sir are you okay?"

            "I... I'm fine..." He mumbled, and slowly ambled over to a chair. He leaned on the armrests, and heaved a few times, trying to catch his breath. Even in high school he had not run that fast. "I... I need to breathe."

            "Should I call a doctor?" the lady asked.

            "No..." Bertolt shook his head and fell into the chair less that gracefully. He panted, clutching his chest, and looked back up to the lady. She hesitated, seeing him so confused and red in the face she seemed to be contemplating calling a doctor anyway. A voice broke the tension between them.

            "Bertl!" a booming voice echoed and Bertolt lifted his head to see the tall angry looking blonde he knew to be Reiner.

            "Rei... Reiner..." He mumbled. The cop ran to him pulling him out of his chair and hugging him tight.

            "Jesus, Hanji has been calling your apartment for the past forty minutes. Where've you been?" he asked, his voice filled with relief.

            "I... I saw the paper... And Annie... Erwin is... Where...?" Bertolt could barely put his words together. Reiner lifted the man up, trying to get him to stand.

            "We were freaking out. We thought the killer got you too or something... Come on Bertl." Reiner forced him to walk, and Bertolt knew he needed it. "I was about to run out to your apartment. How did you find us?"

            "Annie... I... She, she said not to tell... Where... where is Erwin?" Bertolt gasped for air, looking to Reiner. He stumbled with the man to the elevator, leaning on the wall as Reiner pushed the button.

            "He's on the second floor. ICU. He's been in surgery for a little while, come with. The doctor didn't promise anything much though.." Bertolt could feel himself getting more relieved. He was alive. Erwin really was alive.

            "Hey, Bertl, you okay?" Reiner pressed his hand against Bertolt's back. He didn't appreciate it as much as he should have. Bertolt knew what it was like when someone was near dying, everyone calls you buddy, or your nickname, or whatever made you comfortable. Bertolt let the oxygen rush to his brain, his mind thinking faster. Mike and Erwin had been shot. That's what the paper had said. Bertolt looked up quickly.

            "Reiner, what about Mike?" Bertolt asked, looking to the elevator.

            "Mike? He's okay, they finished working on him on the ride over. He went into shock though. He got real scared, they had to give him a shot to calm him down." Reiner replied, nodding his head. "He... he sounded crazy."

            Bertolt nodded his head, Mike was alive too, that was good. He pressed his hand on the cold elevator doors waiting for the short trip to the second floor to end.

            "He... he said something odd. Hanji is with him now, probably still calling you." Reiner continued, he looked a little hesitant, his eyebrows knitting close together as always in a concerned expression. "He... said he saw the devil."

            "The- devil?" Bertolt paused for a moment, thinking it through.

            "The EMT's said he was speaking nonsense. He kept saying the guy who stabbed Erwin was the devil-"

            "Stabbed? I thought they were shot?" Bertolt looked dazed, leaning in closer.

            "Yeah, they were shot, but one of the guys stabbed Erwin in the arm, almost cut his hand off. They're trying to sew it together." Reiner bit his tongue a bit, realising it was a painful detail to go into. Bertolt could imagine his wrist, severed with blood shooting out. And Judge Nicholas sitting in the alleyway, his limbs missing...

            "God..." Bertolt felt his stomach lurch, and he gripped his stomach tightly. Reiner had to lead him out of the elevator, trying to calm him once again, and lead him down to the ICU.

            "Come on Bertl." Reiner pulled him along, trying to get to Mike's room. And to Bertolt's displeasure, the place was covered in cops, paramedics, and some strange people in suits.

            "Out of the fuckin way!" Reiner snapped, and the people scrambled, Bertolt was grateful for his muscular, deep voiced friend. He knew he would never have such courage to scream. At the moment he felt weak as Reiner led him to the rooms, having to show his badge to the people around him, yelling more.

            "Reiner wh- Bertolt!" Bertolt could catch another woman's voice, this one would have to be Reiner's partner, Sasha Braus. Bertolt lifted his head in time to find a very powerful pair of arms wrap around him tightly, pulling him in.

            "We were worried sick!" Sasha shouted. "We thought you were dead."

            "I... I'm fine..." Bertolt remarked, still so dazed by everything. "I... What's going on?"

            "The fucking FBI shows up too of all people." Reiner was speaking loudly so the suit-wearing men could overhear. They didn't flinch or twitch, but they turned their heads to look at Reiner as he spoke of them. Even behind their sunglasses their fear was evident. Reiner was not a man to be taken lightly when angered.

            "Can't mind their own business, if it happens on Lower Main in Trost they swarm like flies all over a dead body." Reiner snarled. "Just cause there's gangs doesn't mean it's fucking organized crime. They should be looking for a serial killer, not dicking around with us."

            Bertolt only felt sicker when Reiner spoke out in anger, the idea of a dead maggot infested body made him want to puke. All he could picture was Erwin, chopped up just like the Judge- a harder squeeze broke Bertolt's thoughts.

            "Come on Bertolt, go to Hanji and Mike." Sasha beckoned, her strong arms could crush a man. Bertolt nodded his head and he turned to see Reiner keeping the FBI off of him. He made a silent nod of thanks to Reiner, and headed to the rooms. Sasha lead him down to the room that was stood guard by two other people from second shift, a man named Thomas and a girl named Mina. Bertolt had not gotten to know them well, but they were enough of a familiar face. Inside Hanji sat by the nightstand, a pot of dry flowers by her, and a phone receiver pressed against her ear.

            "Hanji." Sasha said, providing Bertolt the voice he didn't have. "Look who's here!"

            Hanji turned around and her eyes widened as she shoved the phone down, running over to Bertolt and bringing him into the second strong hug of the day. They were starting to get painful.

            "Bertolt, we were worried sick." Hanji panted, out of breath after holding it in for so long. "I thought that the killer had come to you or something, oh God Bertolt, everything is going crazy."

            "I know..." Bertolt replied, trying to speak better. "Is Mike okay?"

            "He's fine." Hanji replied, waving her hand dismissively. "They shot him full of drugs to calm down. He'll be asleep for a few hours... Erwin is still in surgery. It's going to be awhile." Bertolt nodded his head, he found himself doing that a lot. "Come sit down, you're so pale honey."

            Bertolt didn't mind the petname, and stumbled over to sit down on the chair next to Mike's bed. Now he could at least get an idea of what had happened. Mike was pale as a sheet, his face greying from the stress and drugs. But he was breathing softly, and he was alive. Bertolt knew that Mike was a strong man, and it terrified him to see the man in such a state. Bertolt could see his own reflection in the mirror by the table, his own face had flushed pale from the lack of air, and now that he had rested, blotches of red appeared on his face. He panted softly, and Hanji slowly settled next to him on the other chair, hugging his midsection, few people were tall enough to wrap their arms around his shoulders.

            "Is... is he going to be okay?" Bertolt asked.

            "Mike is fine Bertolt." Hanji reassured.

            "N-no... Erwin... where is he?" Bertolt mumbled, trying to get his bearings.

            "Ah." Hanji nodded her head quickly. "Yes, he's getting surgery, I'm sure you heard. He got shot in the chest two times, the torso another two, and one in the leg. He also got stabbed in the right arm. They said he lost a lot of blood when they found him, but he was still conscious. Erwin.. he's a very strong man, don't worry about him. I know he's going to be okay. He can handle it. Not like Mike over here." Hanji gave a small smile and reached out, gently petting the sheets close to Mike's legs. Bertolt could see the bandages thickly wrapped around the man's shin down to his toes, and his right leg which was wrapped from the thigh to under the knee.

            "What... how did this happen?" Bertolt asked, turning his head.

            "No one knows just yet Bertolt..." Hanji explained. "From what they got out of Mike, he said a monster did it-"

            "Reiner said he was talking about the devil..." Bertolt added quietly.

            "Yes, yes, the devil, that's what Mike said. He said that the devil stabbed Erwin and something about a shooter." Hanji paused and leaned in, looking to Bertolt with a dark expression.  
            "Bertolt, they're lucky they got out alive. Did you hear about what happened?" Hanji asked, her voice calm.

            "I... I read the paper. That's how I got here..." Bertolt mumbled.

            "The paper reacted first somehow. Someone said that a tip was given to the press about what was about to go down at Sunshine Apartments." Hanji continued. "The pictures were taken before the paramedics were even called. Bastards-" Hanji stopped herself before nodding her head. "Well, as I said, the whole place was cleared out. Everyone who lived there is dead. Not a trace left. Someone called the police and the switchboard operator sent the call to our police station... Either Mike or Erwin answered. I just don't know why they didn't leave a note... Their shift was almost over when they responded. So I thought they'd leave something. Mike took his car, and they met up with whoever did this... The payphone in Sunshine Apartments was destroyed, so whoever called the paramedics wasn't there."

            "Thank god they did..." Bertolt mumbled. "I... I had no idea..."

            "It's okay Bertolt, it wasn't like you could know." Hanji replied. "Erwin is a strong man. We just have to wait for him to come out of surgery."

            Bertolt knew that everything he could have been told had been relayed to him. Nothing more could be understood until Erwin was awake. There could only be one other  person that knew more. Only one other superhuman-

            As if on command, the phone rang. Hanji leaned over to answer, before Bertolt shot his long arm out and grabbed it first.

            "Bert-"

            "I know who it is." Bertolt replied, and sighed softly. He brought the phone to his ear, and tilted back a bit.

            "Can I say your name now?" Bertolt asked.

            "No." came a voice, flat and mellow, so obvious to Annie's character. "I told you not to run off. And then you hung up."

            "And you knew I'd be here." Bertolt replied.

            "Well I didn't think you'd go out for ice cream." Annie hissed back. "Listen, this phone might be wired by the FBI, so I don't want to speak anything of what's happening anymore. You know where to meet me."

            "Are you here?" Bertolt asked, his voice a little alarmed.

            "Not yet, but I'm driving. You know what to look for." Bertolt certainly knew what to look for, a burgundy Sedan Deville. He tensed up, looking around a bit.

            "I want to stay and wait for Erwin-"

            "You can't Bertolt. I need you there."

            "Where?"

            "I can't say damn it! I just went over this. Just get outside. Waiting isn't going to help him, okay? Getting in my car will!" Annie sounded quite upset, and Bertolt was curious as to why, and he feared it.

            "Just trust me." words Bertolt never thought would leave Annie's lips. She had never asked him to trust her. Something truly had to have been awry.

            "An-"

            "Don't say it!" Annie snarled.

            "Boss." Bertolt replied, trying to avoid her name, it was the quickest word he could think of. "I just need to make sure he's okay. He's... he's important to me. What do you need me for?"

            "I need you for a lot of things. I know Erwin is important. But you are only going to waste away waiting for the surgeons to be done. You need to help me." Annie sighed bitterly. "Look, I'll call every half hour while you're with me. If that makes you feel better."

            "You can't do that." Bertolt doubted.

            "Trust me, I can." Annie barked back. "Now go." she hung up on him, which seemed to happen a lot to Bertolt. He looked down, sighing sharply. He had to consider his options. Annie truly was the all-knowing. As much as Bertolt's heart ached to leave, he slowly stood up, replacing the phone on the table. Hanji looked to him with a dazed expression on her face.

            "Who was that? What's going on?" she asked.

            "I wish I knew." Bertolt remarked, ignoring the first question, or perhaps answering both. "I have to trust her though." Bertolt was not sure if he could speak Annie's name aloud at all, considering the tone she carried. "I'm going."

            "You just got here! Aren't you going to wait for Erwin?" Hanji looked concerned, sliding out of her own chair.

            "I... I'm needed somewhere else. Erwin is strong. You said so yourself. I know he'll be okay, and I'll call often. I'm sorry, I need to go." Bertolt walked out as quickly as he came in, and he didn't want to speak another word, or say a goodbye before it would really stick in his head that he was abandoning Erwin. Above all else, he was abandoning Erwin for Annie. And she hadn't said a word as to why.

            The FBI eyed him, Reiner shouted at them, and asked in confusing where he was going, but eventually Bertolt got out of the hospital, though he could swear the FBI were right behind, practically breathing on his neck. Bertolt ran to the street corner, looking around for a burgundy car, anything burgundy. It took no more than a few seconds for Annie's car to appear, she looked disgruntled and dishevelled, two cigarettes sticking out of her mouth. Armin was in the backseat, and Bertolt made no hesitation to quickly slip into the passenger side of the car and get swept away by the woman, disappearing in the traffic.

            "What do you want from me!?" Bertolt felt he had every right to be angry at Annie.

            "Shut it!" she shouted, one of the cigarettes leaving her mouth, evident that it had lit the new one in her mouth. Her eyes glowed with disgust. Bertolt no longer felt a right to be angry at Annie.

            "Look, a lot of shit is going down right now." Annie hissed, and snapped her head around to get a glimpse of the hospital, Bertolt followed her gaze, and could see the two FBI agents from earlier had indeed followed him, instead they looked up and down the sidewalk, trying not to look confused about Bertolt's location.

            "We're going back to Trost. We'll get there fast, trust me, the streets are clear after all the bullshit that's been happening. The FBI just shot out from under the rug so they're dicking around here too. We need to keep a low profile while this is happening, so I may or may not be around a lot for the time being." Annie was speaking as fast as she could, and Bertolt tried to keep up with comprehending it all.

            "Why do you need a low profile?" Bertolt asked, folding his arms.

            "It's not important." Annie argued. "I'll tell you later. Right now, I just need to know what the hell happened. I have to see the crime scene before they take everything away and burn bodies and all that jazz. And I need to see if Kirstein is dead."

            "Jean? Why him?" Bertolt turned his head.

            "He's involved now, I don't know if I dragged him in, or if he has been a part of it all along. But he's definitely involved. If he's dead... well then he was useless. I doubt it though. I think he's probably lurking around somewhere out there with the killer." Annie explained, a growl in her throat. "Damn it. I need to check something else out too.. I needed to leave as soon as possible. If anything the FBI will be all over this place so just let Armin do the talking for now. I don't want to do all this legal shit." Annie was flooring it, the windshield covered in a flurry of melted snow and frost. Bertolt leaned back in his seat, his heart thumping, and his head feeling as heavy as lead. His mind was still clear, and he could think through what was going on, yet he felt so utterly useless. His fingers still trembled with concern. Even with all the trust he had in Annie, how could he have just left Erwin like that?

            "And how are you going to call the hospital ever half-hour if we're on the freeway to Trost?" Bertolt asked, turning his head.

            "God will you relax?" Annie retorted. "Armin, show him the phone."

            Bertolt craned his neck back to see that Armin had some paperwork all over the seat, but on the other chair was a large briefcase with a few locks on it. Armin's head popped up and he quickly fidgeted with the locks, opening the case. Inside was a heavy looking battery with a wire attached to a phone receiver. Armin lifted the phone, beginning to explain.

            "This is a cell phone." Armin explained, holding the phone up.

            "A what?" Bertolt looked down at the phone, reaching out to grab it. "Like on TV?"

            "No, this one is real.. and not very good. It's expensive as hell too." Armin remarked and allowed Bertolt to look over it. "I doubt these will be marketed to the public until the 80's, if they're lucky. But it's how we can call around quickly if we need to. Reporters have them too usually, if they want to get calls really quick. If you really want to call the hospital that frequently, then make sure you talk only a minute or two at a time. This thing only has about an hour for talking, and Annie has used it a good amount for today."

            "Maybe if Bertolt wasn't scrambling all over the place I wouldn't have to." Annie remarked, and Bertolt frowned, tilting his head back.

            "Sorry for not thinking clearly when the person I love is full of bullets." Bertolt nearly growled in return. Annie just smirked a bit, she liked to see Bertolt angry. Which irritated Bertolt more, but she quickly turned her head.

            "That's also why I need you, now you have some emotional baggage to this case. You more than any of us better start looking for evidence." Annie hissed. "I've never had to hit the ground running like I am now, so I need you to be here. Look, unless anything else is starting to come up, I think we will be fairly distant from each other."

            "Good." Bertolt remarked, folding his arms.

            "Idiot." Annie hissed. " I don't mean we can't talk. No, I'm not saying we  _cannot_  communicating anymore. I literally can't talk with you after this Bertolt. In fact you might have to catch a bus back to Karanese. And lie that you're job is a baker, or maybe just say you don't have a job. If anyone asks that is. And maybe try to never mention my name. Or Armin's. Just to be safe."

            "What are you going on about? Why are we keeping secrets all of a sudden?" Bertolt looked back and forth at the two of them. Armin shuffled in his seat uncomfortably as Annie's gaze fell on him. She puffed out grey smoke, looking to Armin fully by turning her head.

            "Tell him." she ordered, and whipped her head back around to watch the road.  
            "Now? Are you sure?" Armin asked, looking down at himself.

            "When else can we tell him!?" Annie snapped.

            "You're right, you're right.." Armin chided. "Okay. Um..." The blonde man looked down at the paperwork, starting to pull his ponytail a bit. Bertolt stared at him for a long moment before Armin turned his head, an uncomfortable look on his face.

            "Okay, so... How do I put this?" Bertolt felt his stomach lurch, if Armin couldn't put his own words together, this was not good.

            "So... we are... well, there may have been a few things we didn't tell you fully." Armin explained. "And right now, Annie believes that they might be coming back up again. So maybe now would probably be the right time to tell you that... We sort of burnt the office to the ground."

            "What!?" Bertolt looked to Armin, wishing this was some joke. Armin just looked at him with an uncomfortable gaze, pulling his glasses off and cleaning them quickly. "I had stuff in there!"

            "All the more reason why we needed to burn it down!" Armin remarked, waving his hands dismissively. "You don't want to get caught being associated with us Bertolt. We didn't really think it would come to this, but it has. And we are very sorry. We'll probably be hiding out in Trost if we're lucky. We can't really chance being close like Shiganshina. Though we'll definitely try to stay close."

            "Why are you running away? And why did you burn the office down? There's more practical ways to get out of paying rent." Bertolt looked so confused, and his head was spinning, what the hell was Armin talking about?

            "Just get to the point!" Annie shouted.

            "Okay!" Armin sighed. "We're not... technically..." Armin lifted his arms, making quotation marks with his fingers.

            "Quote on quote... detectives."

            "...What?" Bertolt looked at the two of them, Annie looked disappointed, almost ashamed after Armin had spoken, and Armin himself looked near afraid. Bertolt tried to find some sort of solace in their expressions, but there was none. They simply sat in silence, waiting for Bertolt's reaction.

            "Then what the hell are you?" Bertolt finally mustered, feeling his patience shortened.

            "Well..." Armin's voice was low and soft. "Technically... we would be considered... something along the lines of... a hitman?"

            Bertolt looked to him for a long moment, blinking a few times, trying to make it click in his head.

            "You're joking."

            "No, no! We wouldn't joke about this Bertolt, we just didn't know how to tell you!" Armin pleaded, nodding his head. "I mean, Annie prefers the term assassin, but whatever floats your boat. We were trying to balance two different firms at the same time, but after recent events, we think it's better if we just stick to being hitmen. Being a detective is too much work." Bertolt couldn't really believe anything he was hearing. Hitmen? Was this some sort of joke? He couldn't see any smiles or eye rolling, so this was something to be taken seriously.

            "So I've been solving crimes you two committed?"

            "No!" Annie and Armin spoke at once.

            "We hadn't committed a single hit since you joined, we swear!" Armin explained.

            "Well..." Annie mumbled under her breath. "There was that one time..."

            "Oh yeah." Armin remarked. "But other than that, no. We swear, all the work we had been doing was honest work, nothing we were trying to sweep under the rug. Annie just thought you seemed very smart and observant, so we thought you'd make a good addition. If we knew this would happen, we wouldn't have even looked in your general direction. We promise."

            "How do you know I won't tell the FBI?" Bertolt remarked, still curious of their trust.

            "Because I can get you much more information than them." Annie replied.

            "I doubt it." Bertolt huffed.

            "Well of course I can't give you as much info as the whole goddamn FBI, but Bertolt do you really think they'll tell you shit? I'm fully willing to tell you anything you need to know. As long as it's not on the phone. I don't know if these cellphones are getting traced, or if the landline phones are too. The FBI has been on my ass for years. They usually spring up around gang activity, but now they have some hints towards finding me, so I need to leave for a few weeks." Annie explained, looking around a bit at the outside of the car before turning into a lane quickly.

            "I..." Bertolt sighed. "I don't even have words."

            "We didn't expect you too." Armin replied calmly. "We're sorry this had to be so sudden. We just wanted to protect you, so we thought it was better if you didn't know."

            "Protect me? Why?" Bertolt asked.

            "You say that like we can't do things on our own. We just wanted to protect you from our identity. Not like someone asked us to watch over you." Annie quickly interjected.

            "Are your names really Annie and Armin?" Bertolt asked, turning to them.

            "Of course." they chimed in simultaneously. "Why would a hitman change their name? It's not a personal thing." Annie tacked on. "It's secretive, sure, but my job doesn't define me. It's just an occupation." Bertolt nearly laughed, here Annie was, his so-called 'boss', playing off the fact that she was a hired killer, as if she was some tax collector. 'My job doesn't define me.' He wasn't sure whether to laugh, or try to bail out of the car, and he was starting to lean towards the latter.

            "So why the big reveal?" Bertolt summoned the courage to ask, gripping the burgundy leather of the door. "Other than the FBI and all that."

            "Well, the case that has been coming up is actually fairly... familiar. To us." Armin explained. "A few years ago, we got a new recruit that would... disappear a lot. He'd pop in and pop out. I knew him as a child, but he always kind of drifted off. He daydreamed a lot. And he was one of our hitmen. He was young though, but it didn't deter him. He liked the look of blood, and he liked maiming dead bodies. He eventually started maiming the living bodies too, torturing people to death. We didn't know what to do so we just kicked him out. He's been idle for a few years, so we thought we were in the clear. Maybe he drugged up and died or did something incredibly stupid."

            Armin looked down at his works, and slowly settled the papers in his lap, putting them in his backpack. "We were wrong. He's back. And he isn't on drugs, he's just... he's... he's become..."

            "A fucking psychopath." Annie finished. Armin nodded his head in agreement.

            "And we think if we can confirm this is his work, then we need to hide out for a bit, try to find him." Armin explained. "The tarot cards are sufficient enough to me. He liked fortunes and future reading and things like that. Annie just wants to make sure."

            "I need to know more than that Armin. Something was strange when we visited Jean those months ago, and I'm not talking about the drug addicts. Don't you remember how creepy Jean was with Bertolt? Like he knew everything about him? Where he lived, who he lived with?" Annie explained, and Bertolt felt the ache return to his stomach. He didn't want to be dragged into this anymore, dear God this didn't sound like it would end in his favour. Wasn't there a way out?

            "He said himself that he was going to talk to me." Bertolt argued. "Drug addicts try to stalk people they knew for money. That's all it was."

            "That's just what you want to believe." Annie growled, and Bertolt knew very well that she was right. He just didn't want to deal with this at all.

            "I think maybe the killer is probably talking with Jean, that's why he knew so much about us, that's why he lured us out to the apartment complex in the first place. The killer kept tabs on his victims, and now he's keeping tabs on us." Annie explained. "So I need to know if Jean is dead. If he  _is_ dead then he was most likely just stalking you for drug money, and it's coincidence that he ever knew about the tarot cards.."

            "And if he isn't?" Bertolt dared to ask.

            "Then you better start protecting yourself." Annie huffed. "We can't be there to save you if you get in trouble with this nutcase okay? We'll call, we'll try to keep you updated, but trust me, this man is fucked in the head. You need to look out for yourself. Sleep with one eye open."

            "What about you guys? Where will you go?" Bertolt asked.

            "We can take care of ourselves." Armin assured Bertolt.

            "Probably some shitty motel in Trost." Annie huffed, bringing another cigarette to her mouth. "If we're lucky, maybe we can hide out somewhere in Shiganshina, but we're going to have to make a few calls on payphone only, if that shit is going to happen."

            "You guys really think this man is crazy... huh?" Bertolt looked to them both, his throat felt thick with saliva, and he swallowed hard at the thought of someone out there that could scare Annie.

            "He is. He's unstable, and crazy, and if he has some sort of crazy stupid goal... He's going to try and achieve it. We never should have hired him, I thought maybe I could put off his crazy vibe, get him to act and think like a normal human being, but he never could... It's my fault. I taught him how to kill, I never taught him how to feel." Annie looked to Bertolt. He looked puzzled, and she knew he had every reason to be so. She growled to herself. How would there be an easier way to describe years of regret? She sighed.

            "Look. Let me put it this way. Everyone plays chess right? Let's say chess is everything we know to be right. Don't kill, don't rape, don't torture, don't commit suicide, don't do this, don't do that. All the bullshit rules society has deemed correct of not doing. As it should be. Let's say everyone plays chess then. Everyone knows the rules. Don't kill, rape, etcetera. Well this man doesn't know how to play chess, he only knows checkers. So society deems him unfit for living. But he's smarter than us, you know why? Because he can play both games at the same time. He knows when to play chess, he knows when to play checkers. Except he refuses to conform to the rules of chess, the rules we've made. He wants to follow the rules of checkers. Because he likes them a lot better. Because is checkers he can kill, and rape, and torture all he wants. Checkers has no rules like that. No rules he has to conform to. That's what a fucking psychopath is, okay?"

            Annie was filling a psychology sermon into all of two minutes and Bertolt didn't take long to understand what she meant. The man was crazy, but not the crazy they assumed, unable to understand the world around him, lost and confused. He was very aware of what he was doing, and he loved it. And he challenged the world with his ideals, the ideal that killing people was okay, that ripping them apart was okay. A true psychopath nature.

            "Who is he?" Bertolt asked, though he was not so sure if he should.

            Annie sighed softly, cold vapour and grey smoke exiting her lips.

            "He was a very well mannered hitman, a very smart boy. He was young, but it never deterred him. He was the guy that disposed of our bodies. Cut them up in pieces and send them down the drain. Burn them, hide them at the bottom of the ocean. He never did the killing, maybe I should have let him and he wouldn't have gone nuts." Annie began to explain. "He would roll in one day, be gone for several months. He wasn't sane, he was never born sane. He never knew what loving parents were, he barely knew what friendship was. I should have caught it, I should have been smarter, I should have killed him while he was still around. This is my fault..."

            "But,  _who is he?_ " Bertolt asked, looking to Annie in pure bewilderment.

            "He's a young man." Annie explained. "If I can still call him a man, and not a monster. Whatever he was, or is, he's probably behind this, and his name is Eren Yeager."

 


	9. Split

The car ride was long and arduous. Most car rides were with Armin and Annie. It was just a little bit different once Bertolt learned they were hitmen, and not the detective division he thought he was working for. His mind was still perturbed by the sudden barrage of information, and he sat in the front seat, his face against his knees and his hands on his head. Armin tried his best to console Bertolt, but it was hard to really find anything that would be of comfort. Bertolt tried to organize himself for a moment, and just so he could make sense of what to even be upset about.

            Erwin was still hospitalized, he still had some time before he would use that cell-phone-whatever it was to call Mike's room. Armin and Annie were hitmen. Hitwoman. Whatever they were called. And Eren Yeager was the man who had shot Erwin? That name was so familiar... why? Bertolt's head throbbed to think any more. This was just too much.

            "God..." Bertolt mumbled. "I... I want to go home..." he instinctively mumbled those words. In times of distress Bertolt had always retreated home, to his room. Sometimes, in the most distressing cases, his mother's arms. But she was miles away, and home was not so comforting anymore.

            "We can't go home Bertolt." Annie replied. "Not yet."

            "I know..." Bertolt hissed. He dug his nails into his knees and slowly lifted his head again. He knew he couldn't cry, he was an adult. It was just frustrating, and his face had already flushed red and he could feel himself starting to sweat. Why couldn't people understand what was too much to him?

            "Can I call Erwin?" Bertolt mumbled.

            "Of course." Armin replied, and pulled out the brick-sized phone, punching in a few numbers. "I'll call Mike's room now." Armin had to run through a few papers to find the extension numbers, and flipped a few switches on before the call could go through. Bertolt looked at the phone a little sceptical before bringing the heavy grey block to his face.

            "It's not going to give me cancer is it?" Bertolt mumbled.

            "Not likely." Armin replied, nodding his head.

            "A lot of things will kill you before the phone, Bertolt." Annie replied. Now that he had reached the tip of his stress he could tell she was being a bit nicer to him. Bertolt settled in his chair, setting the phone on his shoulder and listening to the phone ring.

            "Hello?" Hanji's voice came through.

            "Hi Hanji..." Bertolt mumbled. "It's Bertolt. Any news?"

            "Yes!" she responded excited. "The doctor came in just a few minutes ago just to tell me about the progress. They got all the bullets out of Erwin, and they stopped all the major bleeding. There's still muscles to sew together, and stitches to do, but he just wanted to give us an update. He's going to be fine though. They said Erwin did really well. He just needs a lot of rest, okay?"

            "Thank you..." Bertolt felt like he was about to cry, his voice was so soft and exasperated. Hanji laughed softly, it was a laugh of happiness, and relief.

            "He's a strong guy. Even for his age and all."

            "Erwin isn't that old." Bertolt remarked, hugging the phone to his head.

            "I know." Hanji hummed. "What I meant was just... his body has been through a lot during his life. He's tough. Don't you worry. It looks like from here on out it's recovering and recuperation. Erwin will be fine in no time."

            "I'm glad..." Bertolt, turned to see Armin pointing at his wristwatch, and nodded his head. "Hanji, I have to go. I'll call you back in half an hour, okay?"

            "Oh? All right, goodbye Bertl." Bertolt felt a little odd being called his nickname, but he gave a silent nod, and replied.

            "Stay safe Hanji."

            "I will." Hanji replied. Bertolt passed the phone to Armin, who shut it off quickly, tucking it away in its case.

            "He's okay..." Bertolt mumbled. "He's going to be okay... Hanji said she'll tell me more."

            "That's good Bertolt." Armin replied, nodding his head. "I'm sure Erwin is going to be fine."

            "I know... he's strong." Bertolt mumbled.

            "Oh for heaven's sake." Annie huffed. "You just love getting babied.."

            "What is that supposed to mean?" Bertolt replied.

            "Look at yourself." Annie argued. "You don't see it? You like it when older people treat you like you need love and care and pet your hair and tell you everything is going to be okay. That's probably why you have such a complex for older men. You like being babied, you like being comforted by your mommy, or your daddy. Whatever. Be a man for fucks sake."

            "I can't help it if I'm scared for Erwin. I just want to be there for him right now." Bertolt mumbled. "I want to be there for him. He needs me right now."

            "No he doesn't. You just want to tell yourself that. Bertolt, don't act this way. You don't even realise the kind of person you are." Annie turned her head a bit, watching the snow covered roads. "You like being around older people because it reminds you of your parents, and when they baby you, you think they're being friendly. They aren't treating you like a real adult. They like to talk down to you and use your nickname on you. Do you even see that? I've seen it since I went to Erwin's birthday party. Hanji acts like she's your mommy or something. Bertolt, try acting your age for a few minutes. You aren't a child anymore."

            Bertolt felt the sudden realisation that Annie was very right about what she said. Hanji did baby him, practically since the day he met her in his science teachers seminar room. She was a kind woman, but he had seen her strict side, and her angered side. She was not the same person in those moments, and he felt a bit of guilt in his chest. Annie was right, he was being childish to call so frequently. It didn't make the truth hurt any less.

            "I know you're worried, and I am too, about a lot more than Erwin. So you need to help him by trying to find Yeager, okay? Not by telling everyone you're worried sick. You-"

            "I get it." Bertolt's tone made Annie stop. He sounded extremely irritated, and Annie gave a nod of understanding, and just leaned in, continuing to drive and shifting her body. The seats were uncomfortable for the long drive, but so was an irritated, frustrated Bertolt in the passenger seat. Bertolt looked a bit like Reiner, his eyebrows knitted and his mouth in a scowl. Annie said nothing, and just tried to keep smoking, pulling out a half empty bottle of scotch. Bertolt was still, and trying to keep his mind together over what was happening.

            Erwin was doing well, to that Bertolt was elated. He tried to piece together the man they had discussed earlier. Eren Yeager. Bertolt just didn't feel any anger in his direction. Eren's name, made him confused in some way. It sounded so familiar, and so distant at the same time. His head felt fuzzy the more he thought of the name. Eren Yeager. Eren? This name wasn't new to him, and at the same time, it just wasn't clicking. He felt his chest starting to ache, and he gripped at it slightly, a nervous sweat trailing down the back of his neck. Something of the name was not just familiar, almost... nostalgic.

            A body. Fresh snow and blood. A small child. Crying. Was it him crying? Or was it another child? The warmth of his mother's arms coming around him. Petting his hair. Wiping his face. Blood. There was a lot of blood. Choking. Screaming. Blood. Blood...

            "Bertolt!" Armin's scream awakened Bertolt from his thoughts.

            "You're bleeding!" he said, and pulled a rag from his backpack, bringing it to Bertolt's mouth. Before the man could correlate his words he noticed a thick coagulated blood dripping onto his lap. He felt his mouth aching, and he opened his lips, feeling blood running down them, smeared between them. The blood mixed on his tongue and burned with a bitter copper-iron taste. He brought the cloth to his mouth and coughed violently, feeling the blood leave him. It was sticky, saliva mixed with the red liquid created a disturbing texture, and Bertolt felt the need to vomit.

            Pain suddenly irradiated on his tongue and he groaned in agony.

            "Fuck." Bertolt mustered to say, the sensation was unpleasant, not to mention the taste of sticky blood didn't help. "I think I bit my tongue." He deduced, trying to relax the two.

            "What the hell were you doing?" Annie asked, looking to the man.

            "I don't know." Bertolt replied, pulling the cloth away to dab his dark jacket of the blood stain, and clean his mouth. "I was trying to think of something, and I started grinding my teeth... I didn't even notice. I didn't get blood on your car did I?"

            "No. But what the hell were you thinking about?" Annie huffed.

            "I... I was trying to remember again." Bertolt mumbled. "It's the same thing as that Judge case... I feel really ill trying to think about it."

            "Stop trying then." Annie huffed. "The last time you almost died from the flu. Just relax for this time around. Whatever it is, your body is trying to tell you that you shouldn't look for it."

            "But it's in my head." Bertolt mumbled. "What could it be?"

            "Something your conscious doesn't want to see again." Annie looked around, blinking a few times.

            "We're almost there, all of you, keep your head down, nothing too suspicious, Armin does all the talking, you show them your identification if they start asking. They start getting personal, lie, lie as best as you can. You don't want to avoid them it'll look suspicious, we just need to see if Jean is dead. And I want to see what tarot cards were left behind." Annie started to explain the plan, and the two nodded in response. The ride felt shorter once the plan was out in the open, and the two exited the car quickly once they reached lower main, heading to the swarm of cops and FBI that stood around  _Sunshine Apartments_. Yellow police tape marked the whole area, and the smell of rotting blood was evident the closer anyone got.

            "Jeez it's cold..." Armin mumbled, wrapping his coat to himself quickly. The cold air greeted them quickly, and Bertolt sighed a misty vapour of air greeting his face.

            "Let's make this as quick as we can." Annie remarked, looking to the snow which had started to fall. "Evidence is being contaminated."

            The three dispersed, Bertolt quickly pulled out is papers he stashed in his wallet just in case any questions were asked. He felt grateful that he was wearing his black coat now that a wet bloodstain was on it, and he knew it would look fairly suspicious. Armin was already talking to the police, making it sound like they had been expecting them. The police were not very suspicious of the others, instead they continued to complain about the cold.

            "Where are the bodies?" Bertolt mumbled. He looked to the parking lot where he noticed a good amount of dry blood was blanketed by snow. One of the cars he recognized, a rusty, but well build truck had parked in a stall covered with blood.

            "This is Mike's truck..." Bertolt mumbled, remembering the look of it due to the few times he had been to the police department, and the man's house. Annie swerved over to meet Bertolt once she got passed the cops, looking to the truck.

            "The bodies are in the apartment. Most of them anyway. Someone's hand in the snow over by the payphone. There's a pair of severed feet on the staircase. There's someone's body in the alleyway, but there's no head. Most of the bodies are in Apartment Twelve B." Annie explained quickly, pointing around to what she meant. "The coroner is running late after some sleet turned their car on its side. We've got a good amount of time so use it wisely. From what I can tell, this whole place was cleared out."

            Annie walked over to the twelfth apartment, keeping her head down. Bertolt hesitated, watching Armin walk upstairs, he seemed to be headed towards Jean's apartment. Bertolt decided he wouldn't help if he just followed one of them. He decided to head to the back where Annie spoke of a headless corpse. Bertolt sighed, watching the snow fall for a moment before stepping away from Mike's truck. He headed to the back alley, seeing a few more cops over there. He paused, looking to the staircase, where he could see blood smeared all over the steps, as well as a pair of severed feet. At the base of the stairs was the alleged payphone, severed and destroyed just like the bodies. The phone still clutched by a hand, severed at the wrist.

            Bertolt continued on, rounding the walls of the low-rise structure and reaching the back alleyway. A few cops idled there too, and Bertolt paused, deciding to listen to their words.

             _"So that's where those two cops were yeah?"_

_"I heard they croaked at the hospital."_

_"Fuck if I know."_

_"I heard the news station came before the ambulance."_

_"Bunch of pricks, they'll do anything for a good picture. Bunch of bullshit if you ask me."_

            Bertolt decided to stop listening after the group continued to talk. He heard enough. He hesitated to cross the yellow tape, and looked at the alleyway before him. He had seen the picture, Mike kneeled over Erwin, trying to speak to him, the two covered in blood, and shrouded by the darkness of the early morning. This alleyway never got light during the daytime. The buildings that it was sandwiched between were too tall to let any light enter the area. Bertolt walked in hesitantly, not a lot of snow was able to get in either. On the end was a body propped up on the wall, head severed, as well as its arms and legs. Bertolt looked around, noticing the stains of blood littered all over the snow. It made him want to vomit, knowing very well it was most likely Mike or Erwin's blood. How long had they been bleeding out? Bertolt growled in annoyance. Erwin never deserved this. He looked down at where the two had been for a long time before he noticed something.

            A red box.

            It wasn't obvious against the stains of dry blood, but now that snow had fallen Bertolt could see the details of a box sitting in the snow. He stepped over carefully, avoiding the cones that the police had put down as evidence, and picked it up quietly. The box wasn't near the cone, so Bertolt assumed the others had not seen it. He looked down at it, it was covered in snow and blood, and he wiped it off with his hands, opening it quietly. The box was full of crushed black velvet, and a golden ring fell out, hitting the ground with a sharp metal ring before landing in the snow.

            Bertolt looked in shock. This could be anyone's ring. But what were the odds of that? It wasn't very likely the people that lived around these parts could afford such a ring. On close inspection it was from the jewellery store near Krista's bakery. No one from Trost would have to travel to Karanese for such a thing. It would be easily bought in the malls scattered all over the good side of Trost.   
            No, it was most likely Mike or Erwin's ring. Bertolt quickly analysed the idea. It must've been Mike's, as happy as it made him to think about, it would be silly to think Erwin had bought him a ring. They couldn't even get married! Why would he buy such a thing? Bertolt reached down, placing the ring back in its box, and tucking it in his pocket. He had never known if Mike had a special someone, but they must've meant a lot to him. Mike had probably been worried sick about it too. That's why he needed sedatives. After Bertolt had reached his conclusion he sighed softly, looking down at the blood. He couldn't imagine the fear and pain of being so debilitated, and being forced to watch each other almost die.

            He pressed on, looking for more to collect, at the end of the alleyway was the headless corpse, a cone sticking out of the snow next to it, as if anyone needed clarity that the body was evidence. Bertolt examined it closer, and looked around. Perhaps the head was still here? The trashcans and a dumpster were still there, and he walked over, pressing his fingertips to the cold metal, and flipping the dumpster covers open. Peering inside, he looked for a head. Not much more than trash from food, furniture and other items. Bertolt sighed, looking to the trash cans. Inside one of the metal cans was a few discarded bottles of beer, and unfortunately radiated with smell of vomit. Bertolt shut it quickly, turning his head to look down the alleyway for cold breeze of air. He sucked in the air, feeling like his lungs were full of icicles, and looked to the last one. It was completely empty, and he realised that someone had dumped all the garbage out of it and onto the ground. Inside it, was a pair of eyes staring back at him.

            The head was of a woman, her eyes dull and reddened even in death, and Bertolt could tell that even when she was killed she didn't struggle, she was most likely high on drugs. Her neck had created a pool of blood at the bottom of the trashcan, and attached to her neck, was a little card. Bertolt leaned in, snatching the card off her neck, and looking to it carefully.

            THE MOON. XVIII. It was in bold, the depiction of a woman's face was in the moon. A wolf and a domestic dog were at the ground, howling between two giant pillars.

            "Lack of clarity..." He mumbled to himself. Bertolt had been going over the meaning of tarot cards with Armin, back when the Judge Nicholas case was still fresh in his mind. He remembered what Armin had said of almost all of them, and their interpretations. Perhaps this Eren person was the one who taught Armin in the first place? He tucked the card away before deciding it wasn't a good idea to hide any longer.

            "I found the head!" Bertolt called the other cops over, the examined the head, still mumbling and aching over how cold it was today. Bertolt found the chance to slip away, and headed to where Annie had run off to. Annie was standing outside of the apartment room, taking a long smoke. He sighed softly, showing the card to her.

            "I found the moon." he explained, looking to her expression.

            "I found the sun." she replied calmly, looking around, trying to make sure none of the FBI was looking. "I'm sure Armin probably found the stars then... Those three usually are together."

            "I thought you said we weren't trying to look at the poetics of this all?" Bertolt asked, turning his head.

            "I know. Well, what else is there do? There's no better way to get close to that psychopath then to try and get in his frame of mind. I'm just trying to piece together what he's doing. It's nothing special. Anyway, I didn't find any trace of Jean, even in that whole mess of flesh and bodies. You?"

            "I found this on a woman. There was barely anyone around, so I was able to take it off of her." Bertolt explained. "It was in the alley they found Mike and Erwin at."

            "Huh." Annie nodded her head curtly. "I see. Find anything else?"

            "Just this box." Bertolt replied, pulling out the wedding ring he found. "I think it's Mike's. I better go give it back to him. I wouldn't be surprised if he dropped it."

            "All right. We've got nothing then. Of course." Annie replied bitterly, not caring for the box. "This is going to be difficult if we're going to try and find him." Annie seemed to avoid using Eren's name at all cost, Bertolt decided not to correct her. "Unfortunately, looks like you were right Bertolt. We're probably looking at twenty two homicides if he wants to kill someone for each card in the Major Arcana. Or maybe more. By the looks of it, he wants each one to have a special meaning. He killed five people inside and arranged their limbs to all stick outwards in a circle, the bodies in the middle of that circle. That was how he represented the sun. How was your body?"

            Bertolt looked down at the blood-covered card, nodding his head.

            "The woman's head was cut off and shoved into a garbage can. They cleaned all the garbage out so her head could sit at the bottom, and the card was attached to her neck. I don't know if that was supposed to represent the moon in anyway... Maybe the circle in trash or something." Bertolt began to explain.

            "That back alleyway is between two really tall buildings right?" Annie asked. Bertolt nodded in agreement. "So then the sunlight never really reaches it fully. I think that's probably why he left her in the back, the moon has such dull light compared to the sun." Bertolt nodded his head, looking down at the card, though he was not fully interested in the symbolism. Annie did not continue any further, grey smoke and vapour rising from her mouth and nose and drifting away.

            "Can I call the hospital again?" Bertolt asked, looking down at himself.

            Annie rolled her eyes again.

            "Oh for gods sakes, Bertolt, why don't you just ask the FBI? I'm sure they have a phone readily available. Or you know what has a better working phone?  Prison." Annie snarled.

            "I get it, fine." Bertolt mumbled. "I won't try now.."

            "You heard Erwin was fine, what more do you want?" Annie huffed.

            "I want to hear him." Bertolt mumbled.

            "Bertolt don't you realise what's happening right now? Stop acting like a child." Bertolt winced as Annie repeated those words again. He just didn't want to believe he was acting like a child. "Bertolt, even if Erwin survives his life is in danger. This killer- this  _thing_  wants him to die. Why do you think the police have been guarding him? Because he's in the police? No! He might die, if no one is looking. And who knows Bertolt? The killer might try to just waltz in anyway. Nothing right now is safe! Not for you, not for Erwin, not even Mike. So stop thinking about yourself for one goddamn moment! We all want to be comforted right now, okay? We don't get what we want sometimes."

            "I get it." Bertolt mewed, his voice always got small when Annie told him off.

            "Jean's body isn't up here."

            The two turned to see Armin walking down the stairs, avoiding the bloody pair of feet on the steps to get close to Bertolt and Annie. "Did either of you find his body?"

            "No." they remarked simultaneously

            "So he's gone missing, huh? Very interesting coincidence." Annie hissed.

            "I found this card in his room though." Armin pulled a small card from his pocket handing it over to Annie.

            THE STARS. XVII. The card depicted a nude woman leaning over a pool of clear water, holding two pitchers of water in both hands. She looked serene, and the sky behind her was full of white eight-pointed stars, and a large yellow star.

            "The stars. So I was right." Annie remarked. "The sky is here. At least to that monster."

            "Why won't you call him Eren?" Bertolt leaned in, looking down at the card.

            "He doesn't deserve a name." Annie snapped. "We better go. Talk while we leave, what did you get Armin?"

            "Nothing. Jean's apartment was completely clean." Armin explained. "But that was the weird thing. Everything was orderly and proper. Someone cleaned the whole apartment and left. Jean must've taken all his stuff and left. Even the furniture was gone." Bertolt imagined the pile of rags and chairs was what Armin considered 'furniture'.

            "There was a gun in the bathroom too, but I wasn't going to steal it, I had a feeling the police would notice." Armin explained, looking down at his feet. "I'm sure Jean didn't buy it, because it was too new. It looks like someone just started using it. There wasn't any bullets in it either. I have a feeling it was the gun that was used to shoot Erwin and Mike."

            The three opened their door to the car, and calmly began to drive away, Annie kept her eyes out for anything, trying not to appear too conspicuous as they left. "If the gun was in Jean's apartment, then either Jean or someone who Jean knew shot them."

            "You think they know each other?" Bertolt asked. "Eren and Jean?"

            "Perhaps. We don't know if Eren is doing this. Though the tarot cards are a give away to me. He always had a near fetish for the occult." Annie hissed. "I just feel it setting in my bones that this is Eren's work, other than that, I got nothing. He learned from the best of us- I taught him everything to make sure not to get caught, and now he's out trying to play poet." Annie sped away from the massacre, trying to keep her eyes focused on the road instead of Bertolt, or any other thoughts.

            "What now then?" Bertolt huffed.

            "Same as always. Just assumptions until we figure out what the fuck is going on." Annie replied. "Right now, we assume Eren and Jean are working together. As for us, we're laying low. You never met us. There's a bus station out in Trost that I'm dropping you off at okay? You never contact us again. We'll contact you if it's an absolute necessity. Other than that, not too much talking going on- there it is ahead."

            Annie pointed out a bus station at a busy intersection, people of all types standing under the small glass and metal box, huddling from the wind and snow. Annie slowed in front of the stop and allowed Bertolt to exit. Annie looked to him, Armin also giving a complicated and concerned gaze.

            "You stay with the police, they're going to keep Erwin safe. That's a priority for now.. Being safe. From now on, we never met. If you're lucky, the police might extend a hand in keeping you safe. If you're lucky. But from now on, just assume you're on your own now."

            With that, Annie drove off through the streets of snow and disappeared around the corner. Bertolt pressed to the glass bus stop box, looking down at his feet. He tried not to think of everything at once, he knew that would kill his head to try and keep juggling information. He just tried to think of what Annie said. He was on his own now. And for the life of him, he didn't know if that should make him relieved, or terrified.

* * *

Christmas was right around the corner. Connie Springer knew that well. He found himself outside of the nearby shopping mall, wondering what he should get for Reiner and Sasha, his two best friends. He wondered if he should go as far to buy a gift for Reiner's old high school friend, Bertolt, he seemed liked a nice guy. His boss, Annie, not so much. Connie was window shopping mostly, staring in at purses and perfume; girls like that sort of thing, right? Sasha would like something like that... Or maybe she would like something more like a hunters vest. Connie didn't know. She always seemed a little odd, but that was a charming thing in a way.

            It was on the way to the bathroom that Connie realised he was getting followed. A mirror next to the dressing rooms, which was where the bathroom was, is where Connie caught the image of a man in a trench coat. He didn't notice much of it. Everyone was wearing a trench coat this time of year. He came into the bathroom, and exited the same time as Connie. He had a sort of deranged look in his eyes. Big and bright, like they sky almost.

            Connie didn't buy anything. He couldn't help noticing every shop he went into the guy followed. Connie was not a rich man, he just joined the cops, and even if he was the Chief of police, there wasn't much money in that position. The economy wasn't the greatest at the moment. He found himself walking around for a bit, hoping the man in the coat wouldn't mug him, and headed outside to leave, wondering if he should run for it. As soon as he stepped outside, he stepped to the edge to cross the street when a car pulled up in front of him. He blinked, and turned away, trying to get around it when the man in the trench coat blocked him.

            "Leave me alone god damn it..." Connie hissed.

            "Get in the car." the man was very calm. That scared Connie more than a demanding voice ever could.

            "No."

            A gun cocked. The man pulled a pistol out of his coat, keeping his hand hidden in the sleeve, making sure no one saw. Connie cursed himself for not travelling armed off duty. Reiner had explicitly told him to keep protection on him.

            "In the car. Now." the man told Connie.

            "I don't have any money." Connie was starting to falter, fear rising in his throat.

            "I don't want money. I don't need money. Get in the car." the man replied. "If you value your life, you'll answer my questions, and I will not hurt you." Connie found the man pressing his hand against his side, and pushing him to open the door. Connie did so. Climbing into the back seat, he noticed the driver, a twitchy-looking blonde man, with sunken in yellow eyes. The man in the trench coat got in with Connie, gun still pointed, but now more obvious about it.

            "Jean, drive to the docks." the man ordered.

            "Yes Eren..." he mumbled, and started to drive. Eren looked to Connie, a small amused smile on his face.

            "What do you want with me man? I don't have anything... I didn't do anything." Connie stuttered to say.

            "Of course, you're not much to me." Eren explained. "Which is why you have to value your life, because I don't. Now just answer me a simple question, if you really do value your life, you will answer correctly." Connie swallowed hard, and stared directly at Eren, frowning.

            "What is it then?" Connie worked up the nerve to ask, still taking in the idea of actually dying from an incorrect answer.

            "It's very simple now." Eren explained, lifting the gun. "Just tell me now. Where is Bertolt Hoover?"

 


End file.
